Cry it Out.

Sometimes you just have to cry it out. And when we are totally broken, when we have exhausted all other avenues, demeaning as they are, the last thing we resort to is this. And suddenly for whatever reason the burden becomes lighter. Suddenly another door opens, and suddenly it seems so much easier to close the last door. It doesn't matter how much people disappoint you, how many times they try to break you, it is purely to bring you back down to the realisation that, you are nothing, you are not in control, and that He is the only one you can turn to, to enable you to move on again. And those who don't realise this and do not turn to Him, who do not cry it out, and beg for his mercy and forgiveness, they will carry on going through the turmoil of fighting the war waging within themselves.

Why is is that when we have lost all hope, not knowing which way to turn, full of confusion and thoughts and thinking "What if? Why?", crying brings us this result? Because this is where you are at your most weakest point which no one would want to admit, even to  themselves, never mind to others. And for you to accept this, to finally break down all the barriers and just surrender yourself, to Allah, and to the plan that He set out for you, in this we find peace, we set ourselves free.

"One of the marvels of the world: The sight of a soul sitting in prison with the key in its hand."

-Rumi

Strangers

Sometimes you may find yourself on unfamiliar ground, a stranger in a place with people so unknown to you. You wonder how you will cope in such a place. For some its an exciting venture, for others, there is nothing more daunting. But isn't it true how Allah always sends you someone to show you the way, at the point when you feel most lost? How that person is there for you at hand, who can accompany you and answer the questions you thought you would never find alone. And isn't it true that there comes a point for that person to leave your life. Allah is giving you a chance to not only do everything that that person taught you alone, but also for you to teach the next stranger that arrives. And suddenly you become the one that Allah sends to others, to show them the way. And so in life we find our roles change, from the one who was dependent on others, to the one others become dependent on. And this role change can only occur once that person who showed you, leaves your life.
And although it means you may suffer a loss, it is only a way of training to help you gain something better, because by Allah taking away that person who was always there to guide you, he also took away your dependency on them, so that you may become solely dependent on Him. And perhaps we will keep going through this until, one day, it will no longer hurt to say goodbye, because you learn that you are left with the One, and He is enough for you.

Sunnah of S... II

Something I think that should be talked about more (in a controlled setting - with teachers/scholars/Councillors/people of knowledge). Simply because its something so simple, and ignorance in this matter can have such traumatic effects on people/marriages on a physical and psychological level. Due to culture we are taught to shy away from such issues, but as Muslims there is nothing wrong with developing an understanding and still remaining humble and modest about it. It's easy for people to say that these issues do not concern them, as it is simply "not in their nature", well all I can say is; make it your nature. Follow the Sunnah, or you will always fail in this. 

A great piece, well done: 

http://muslimmatters.org/2013/05/03/vignettes-on-female-sexuality/

They Need to Go. For Sure.

The Best and Most Beloved Wife.

"she believed in me when all others disbelieved; she held me truthful when others called me a liar; she sheltered me when others abandoned me; she comforted me when others shunned me; and Allah (SWT) granted me children by her while depriving me of children by other women." (Prophet Mohammed, Peace and Blessings be Upon Him, about his beloved wife Lady Khadija.)

And That is Enough

I've learned I will almost never get it right first time,
I've learnt not to give up, to change my methods and try again, and again.
I've learnt to trust my instincts,
I've learnt that my greatest inspirations are deeply rooted to my fears,
I've learnt that ugly people will always be ugly, and beautiful people can be even more ugly.
I've learnt that giving up on love is not the answer, nor is chasing the love that never existed.
I've learnt that I should never try to change for the sake of people's ego.
I've learnt that my inability to walk away reflects on my weak Imaan, and what I do walk away from will pursue me. Iv learnt its hard not to look back. Its really hard.
I've learnt to smile and laugh at myself when the world seems dark,
I've learnt that you will feel Allah's love at times when you are feeling so unloved, and that that love is enough.
I've learnt that in the end, the truth always comes out, no matter how hard someone tries to make you look bad. That Allah sends the rain to wash away their black lies and criticisms. I love the rain.
I've learnt that in silence I find solace...but also fear.
I've learnt to protect myself by building a wall, yet still allowing myself to watch the world and lives around me through a gap...I've learnt anyone can get in that gap.
I've learnt that I never knew what I wanted, that I was easily influenced, that I tried hard to please others and agree to their way of thinking, even if I thought otherwise, and that not knowing what I wanted led me to the wrong people. I've learnt to know what I want.
I have learnt that there are people who want you and then there are people who need you. Its better to be needed.
I've learnt the people that are furthest away will always be the ones you miss most.
I've learnt to remember the bad times and not just the good. Because in the good you have regret, and in the bad you have relief.
I've learnt that the people that harmed you will have that same harm caused upon them, that what they took
from you will undoubtedly be taken from them too in the same form or another.
I see the innocence in those younger than me, I have learnt that time will teach them too, regardless of my warnings to them.
I have learnt that I strive to always find solutions for others, but give up when I can never find them for myself.
I have learnt that not every one will understand me. Nor do I want everyone to understand me. And the ones who do, only do because, they have learnt too.

Guantanamo is killing me (Samir Naji)‏

ONE man here weighs just 77 pounds. Another, 98. Last thing I knew, I weighed 132, but that was a month ago.

I’ve been on a hunger strike since Feb. 10 and have lost well over 30 pounds. I will not eat until they restore my dignity.

I’ve been detained at Guantánamo for 11 years and three months. I have never been charged with any crime. I have never received a trial.

I could have been home years ago — no one seriously thinks I am a threat — but still I am here. Years ago the military said I was a “guard” for Osama bin Laden, but this was nonsense, like something out of the American movies I used to watch. They don’t even seem to believe it anymore. But they don’t seem to care how long I sit here, either.

When I was at home in Yemen, in 2000, a childhood friend told me that in Afghanistan I could do better than the $50 a month I earned in a factory, and support my family. I’d never really traveled, and knew nothing about Afghanistan, but I gave it a try.

I was wrong to trust him. There was no work. I wanted to leave, but had no money to fly home. After the American invasion in 2001, I fled to Pakistan like everyone else. The Pakistanis arrested me when I asked to see someone from the Yemeni Embassy. I was then sent to Kandahar, and put on the first plane to Gitmo.

Last month, on March 15, I was sick in the prison hospital and refused to be fed. A team from the E.R.F. (Extreme Reaction Force), a squad of eight military police officers in riot gear, burst in. They tied my hands and feet to the bed. They forcibly inserted an IV into my hand. I spent 26 hours in this state, tied to the bed. During this time I was not permitted to go to the toilet. They inserted a catheter, which was painful, degrading and unnecessary. I was not even permitted to pray.

I will never forget the first time they passed the feeding tube up my nose. I can’t describe how painful it is to be force-fed this way. As it was thrust in, it made me feel like throwing up. I wanted to vomit, but I couldn’t. There was agony in my chest, throat and stomach. I had never experienced such pain before. I would not wish this cruel punishment upon anyone.

I am still being force-fed. Two times a day they tie me to a chair in my cell. My arms, legs and head are strapped down. I never know when they will come. Sometimes they come during the night, as late as 11 p.m., when I’m sleeping.

There are so many of us on hunger strike now that there aren’t enough qualified medical staff members to carry out the force-feedings; nothing is happening at regular intervals. They are feeding people around the clock just to keep up.

During one force-feeding the nurse pushed the tube about 18 inches into my stomach, hurting me more than usual, because she was doing things so hastily. I called the interpreter to ask the doctor if the procedure was being done correctly or not.

It was so painful that I begged them to stop feeding me. The nurse refused to stop feeding me. As they were finishing, some of the “food” spilled on my clothes. I asked them to change my clothes, but the guard refused to allow me to hold on to this last shred of my dignity.

When they come to force me into the chair, if I refuse to be tied up, they call the E.R.F. team. So I have a choice. Either I can exercise my right to protest my detention, and be beaten up, or I can submit to painful force-feeding.

The only reason I am still here is that President Obama refuses to send any detainees back to Yemen. This makes no sense. I am a human being, not a passport, and I deserve to be treated like one.

I do not want to die here, but until President Obama and Yemen’s president do something, that is what I risk every day.

Where is my government? I will submit to any “security measures” they want in order to go home, even though they are totally unnecessary.

I will agree to whatever it takes in order to be free. I am now 35. All I want is to see my family again and to start a family of my own.

The situation is desperate now. All of the detainees here are suffering deeply. At least 40 people here are on a hunger strike. People are fainting with exhaustion every day. I have vomited blood.

And there is no end in sight to our imprisonment. Denying ourselves food and risking death every day is the choice we have made.

I just hope that because of the pain we are suffering, the eyes of the world will once again look to Guantánamo before it is too late.

Samir Naji al Hasan Moqbel, a prisoner at Guantánamo Bay since 2002, told this story, through an Arabic interpreter, to his lawyers at the legal charity Reprieve in an unclassified telephone call.