what brings us together

Without a doubt, the month of fasting is one of hardship. To go a whole month without food, drink, pleasures, as well as bad habits requires a lot of self-restraint. It requires a raising of God-consciousness, of awareness of ourselves and the way we choose to live our lives. In secret, one can choose to obey the rules or break them. Many of us wear masks for the world so that they see the best of us, the parts that they will like. Yet, we have to give each other the benefit of the doubt sometimes. It would be wrong for us to assume, presume, imagine, conjecture the worst about each other, especially when the evidence doesn't always quite add up. How can we go about labeling one another as nice or not nice, limiting our humanity to such restrictive words? At one point, we were all toddlers, children, human beings with similar, basic needs. Our relations, experiences, thoughts, and emotions shape and grow us into what we are. Think of the person who does not know how to be honest and how he learned that to survive. Think of the person who does not know how to say a positive or kind word and how he learned that to protect himself. It is not excusing the behavior or judging it to be good or bad, but that it is a reality that one should accept.

I went off on a tangent. I actually wanted to talk about tonight. This month brings families together when usually they are too busy to even have meals in the same room. This is the only time when we all break fast together, in the same room, sometimes all families, but mostly just us on this floor. Too much has changed in the past few years, some exciting changes and others rather challenging. My father goes to the local masjid to break his fast and joins us later. That's been his habit since last year. Today, it was just my brothers, my sis-in-law, my mother, and my nephew. As we sat there without the TV on (that's rare), my nephew asked if he could watch TV since no one was talking during family time. So I asked him to ask questions then. He said he didn't know what to ask so I said, "Start with something basic. How was your day?" The conversation that ensued afterward just made everyone laugh. The kid's got jokes, and he notices a lot, too. His comments on what he observes is adorable. Even if it is for just an hour, at least this month brings us together in one room. I cannot count all the blessings I have, despite the depression I struggle with. I am hopeful that God understands my gratitude even if I do not say or show it enough. I hope that the God Who understands all the languages in the universe, also understands my silence and what I cannot say.

During the worst of times, we should be looking at the bright side, though I know that sometimes it is impossible to acknowledge it. As believers, we are taught that everything that happens is for our best -- whether it's to help us grow, to change the path we're on, to show us what we were blind to, etc. Not many of us want to see it that way, however. Our ego, our desires, our selfishness gets in the way. We don't want lessons, we want life to go the way we dream it. And that's another lesson we forget. Some of the most basic lessons we learn as a child is that "sharing is caring." We forget that "if you don't have anything nice to say, say nothing." At what point did we care more about being right than care about getting along? We forget as our priorities change.

I asked in the last entry where my passion has gone, and I wondered what passions I was referring to. Initially, I couldn't recall what they could be, but I realized that my biggest passion was words, whether they were my own or someone else's. I have always enjoyed reading, writing, listening to stories, watching tales unfold, imagining what could be. All use words to explain, define, create, divide, develop, sustain, and color moments, experiences, lives, narratives, worlds. But some things cannot be expressed in words, so what fills the vessel of understanding?

I miss our old tenants. They were a unique bunch, didn't have much in terms of wealth or even health but they were some of the happiest people I knew. Blessed are those whose needs are simple, intentions pure, thoughts of gratitude and hearts free of ego. Whenever we had excess in food and sometimes in other things, we gave to them, and they never assumed that we thought less of them but their hearts were so great for accepting with pleasure. One stopped by tonight, and when I asked how she was, she said with such ease, "Great!" that I felt a tinge of envy. A good envy, I think (is that possible?) Should that be something I ought to be striving for? An attitude of joy for life as it is. She attends community college, works, and is, of course, fasting during this month, yet she maintains a rather positive outlook in life. Always has. She enthusiastically talked about how she just joined the gym (though she looks fantastic already!). I felt something within me. Nothing negative towards her -- she's a sweet person who exudes love in all her interactions. Are those standards I've set for myself? Is it really unattainable?

If one went around the world asking people to define happiness, to discuss what they want more of and what they could change about their lives, the answers would unquestionably vary. Not all of us want to be rich and famous. Religion, culture, education, early childhood, residence, age, gender, and temperament are only a few things that influence our outlook, expectations, perceptions, values, and biases.

Do I have a right to say I'm broken? Still, after all this time? It sounds romantic, albeit in a sad way. We go back to the topic of acceptance of reality as it is, of believing that things turn out the way they're supposed to. Perhaps we never really get over past hurts, but we do learn to move on from them. Sometimes we keep things to ourselves or we pretend they don't affect us, but is it at the cost of authenticity?

The beauty of trials is that it either brings people together or tears them apart. You learn who is willing to support you and who could care less.

I'm letting all the randomness out. I've been silent for so long that I don't know where I want to go with my thoughts, and I haven't figured out what's been triggering me and keeping me at such low points. Every time depression hits, it always feels like the worst time. So I cannot really say whether this is the lowest point of my depression, my life. I just know that when I'm there, I feel like there is no hope, no light, no goodness. Intellectually, there is, but emotionally I've got a void. Ideas for recovery float around me, but they haven't pulled me out yet. I suppose if I haven't completely given up yet, that means there is always hope, light, and goodness. There is always something to be thankful for. After all, my experience with depression has drawn me to amazing, beautiful, resilient souls so why shouldn't I be thankful for it?

kickoff

The start is usually exciting, but keeping that level of initial excitement alive is difficult, almost exhausting. It's natural for it to fluctuate, to fade, and then hopefully to reawaken. I'm known for starting a lot of interesting tasks, which often go unfinished. Immersing myself into an activity has been challenging, almost improbable even. Does that mean I won't try? I am passionate, but where has that passion gone? It hides away, in fear of facing the bumps on the road. Passion should be greater and stronger than fear and its obstacles. But I forget that lesson, just like other lessons. That's what humans do best: forget.

Overwhelm describes a lot about my state of mind and my life. About my passions, my cravings, my needs, my goals. I want it all, and I sometimes don't know where to go, when to stop, how to persist, and why I am wherever I end up. If I give it enough thought, it makes sense. If the thoughts get too much time and attention, I only add confusion to the mix, leading to a lot of indecisiveness, which does not help with confidence at all. My mistakes do not, should not, cannot define me. But we all focus on them, don't we? For better or worse. Either they give us a reason to do better as we learn from them, or they halt us in our paths because we cannot forgive ourselves for such blunders. If we think about it, what trail of anyone's consists only of perfections and good decisions, relationships, achievements, and celebrations? No one.

Acceptance is quite a feat. It's not a one-time thing, but it starts somewhere, anywhere. It is continual, persistent, and taxing, but it becomes easier over time, I hear. Denying the reality as it is only invalidates all that is. And invalidation is no way to live. Acceptance does not mean that you approve or like what is, but that you finally realize what is under your control and you let go of what you cannot change. It is supposed to be relieving, a lightness of mind and heart. Judgment clouds your mind, darkens your world, and taints your relations. I want to free myself from that which suffocates me.