The Push from Above

I am amazed at how unfair people can be. How selfish! How power thirsty!

I wonder why. And I wonder why it should happen to me.

I feel very helpless. Yet I want to focus on my blessings. I want to focus on my path. I want to trust the divine and just surrender.

I find it all very hard.

Tonight, I pray. For all who are in distress beyond their means. And for me.

Food Adventures of the Day

The barista spelled my name correctly!

Organic homegrown mint

Chez M

Favorite munch of the season

The Nomad Within

She took the highway going south, the radio tuned on a country music station. She was listening absentmindedly, holding on to her dream of the night that passed.  A new idea. A new dream.

A new hope. The constant disappointment...

She found her grip tighter on the steering wheel. Her jaws pressing. Ahh she sighed, letting loose a little.

She pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror: the conduit to self obsession. Long hair. Large earrings. Tired eyes.

She wrapped her fingers around the wheel again. Took a deep breath. Looked out into the horizon, going south.

Feeling Like An Immigrant Again

I feel like an immigrant again. It's an early foggy morning with the dawn just ahead of us. I'm en route to the airport for a day trip. I know my way around. I know the roads. I know the distances. I know the language, the jargon, the jokes, the greetings. Even where i can get tea in each terminal. I know the business I'm going to conduct in a few hours. Yet, I feel like an immigrant.

The pain of departing my homeland almost fourteen years ago so vivid in my heart. The joy of seeing M again after a long separation overwhelmed the pain.  I remember the fog in the air the first day I landed in Toronto. The light of the fading sun; the smell of new kinds of pastries; the smooth drive to an apartment that was to be my home for the next six years; the anxiety to reach a long distance phone and call home.

I miss my mother.

I wonder what if A also packs his bags one day and fly far far away paying me visits just over phone just once in a while. 

I wonder how parents endure. What a sacrifice!

I will be back home tonight enshala. Possibly past m's bedtime. I wonder what she feels about her day.  Will she miss me? I will be back enshala and I will hold her when she wakes around midnight and I will nurse her and I will caress her fluffy hair.

I feel like an immigrant again and I hope to burry this feeling within me so my kids don't have to experience it, ever.

Fragrance of Molana

It was a beautiful evening spent with Esen Chelebi, 23rd generation of our beloved Molana.  She was full of grace with a smile that was sweet and welcoming. Her presence was love. It was such an easy presence.

I would have never imagined being so close to a defendant of our Pir, Hazrate Molana. Such a blessing!