Why is it so Hard?

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Ahhh! Back to doing everything I like to do, with little of the have to do. Writing, I discovered, is the outlet that I use for creative expression. Whether for helping a friend, ranting about pet peeves, or capturing a feeling, words in fabulous flow bring me joy.

Last weekend, Riad and I went to inspect a stash of Home Shopping Network clothing for resale from a woman who invested in overstock and was unable to sell. Although the deal was great, we thought that we might get stuck with the merchandise, beautiful and inexpensive as it was. While in that area, we stopped by a restaurant owned by a dear friend’s daughter, and discovered that she found it very difficult to resource quality Halal food ingredients. That situation prompted a blog and newsletter broadcast titled “Why is it Hard to Get Halal Food in America?” where the situation is like gridlock now. With Ramadan starting July 20th, it should be a good time to prompt more of a push from consumers. Beside the difficulties in getting consensus from certifiers on unified standards, there is a lack of funding, and a seemingly complacent community who is not vocal or assertive in even requesting Halal products. We only have ourselves to blame, but I hope that I can contribute to the effort for progress.

Stamina has been an issue lately, as my doctor has lowered the meds that replace the function of my thyroid. Never mind that I felt great, energetic, and was working out effectively with weights and lots of cardio as I enjoyed summer. We even biked 23 miles in 87 degrees the previous Saturday. It’s been a week now since reducing my dosage, and I perpetually feel like sleeping, gained 3 pounds, my skin is breaking out, and I somehow did something weird to my knee as I knelt down to prostrate in prayer yesterday. However, as a glutton for pushing the envelope, I will attempt an 8 mile bike ride this evening to test it out with hope that I may correct what may have slid off track. Also, I don’t want fatigue and my bum knee to mess up my golf game. Still a newbie, I already felt gypped because on our recent business trip to Kentucky earlier this week, we bailed out of town without playing since our truck loaded later than expected, and it was a muggy 96 degrees. The doctor has scheduled me for blood work to verify my levels in 4 more weeks. Hope he kicks me back up to my previous perky level, or I will have to find a way to compensate. All this will be in time for my article scheduled to publish in Islamic Horizons about how to stay fit in Ramadan. Wouldn’t it be nice to be fit again in time for it?

Father’s Day was a reminder that my formerly fit father, who was once a soccer team captain, and is 84, is slowing down too. He complained that he can only hit the golf ball 100 yards; and Riad reminisced that when he was just starting to play golf 30 years ago, Dad used to hit over 200 yard drives. It prompted me to muse that as we get older, we will have to find things to still excel at. After all, one has to find something to always grow and develop in order to feel content. Somehow I envision us sitting in La-Z-Boy rocking chairs playing video games when we are not so physically adept. Perhaps we will corrupt our grandchildren, assuming that our kids allow their offspring to play video games. In a surprising comment, one of my teenagers stated that he was considering not allowing his children access to TV. Wow, I thought. Is it because I was permissive that the pendulum will swing the other way for the next generation? Have I sired control freaks?! Time will tell.

With the crummy choices given to Independent voters like me, I am also frustrated by politics. Chagrined by the Senate vote to not label GMO products, it seems like every politician is on the payroll of big agribusiness and not on the side of consumers. California still holds hope for me, and Ron Paul seems to be the only guy who makes any sense. Will it be worthwhile to launch a protest vote, or will that pitch advantage to an unacceptable candidate? It would be nice to see Obama successful and taking charge to rectify some of the incongruities from his original platform, but let’s not be naïve.

Leadership then is a worthy topic to address, and I hope to read Chris Matthews’ book, Elusive Hero, to add a perspective to insights I’ve accumulated since initiating the prospect of writing about the topic…hopefully, next time.

Ode To Summer

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May and June are exemplary months in Chicago with longer days, comfortable temperatures, and low humidity. That is why I have enjoyed casting off the pressure to complete my “to do” list most days, and am indulging in biking, kayaking, taking long walks, and getting serious about building strength and muscle through using weights at the gym.

With the kids out of school now, new emphasis has been placed on being available to share activities and time with each of them. And, as always, time is spent with Riad each day when we encourage each other to work out, work on home improvement projects, and dream about moving to California.

At this point, our kitchen has demonstrated the most improvement with new countertops, range/oven, and range hood.  My kitchen now features peach walls with an accent wall of milk chocolate brown, maple wainscoting, golden oak cabinets, mahogany dyed bamboo window shade, and appliances are black and stainless. Small appliances are mostly stainless finished Cuisinart. The new countertop blends all together in perfectly professional decorator quality. Pity that I fully expect, should we be able to sell this home, that the next dwelling will probably be a bland, eggshell, sterile, neutral apartment. With two kids committed to college in this locale for a couple more years, we may have to pay for two living spaces of some diminished status. However, the call for a better climate and hopefully more business prospects have us convinced that we really want to venture out toward the Pacific. We will see….

Each day begins with an hour to an hour and a half walk listening to the beautiful Qur’an, or an equally long bike ride. I feel that the rhythm of it is therapeutic and calming. If all things in the universe could be reduced to frequencies, I think the Qur’an has the dominant, guiding frequencies that promote health, and my preferred recitation is from Ghamadi. When I return home, breakfast is made for anyone still home.

Lately, my two youngest sons, one a high school senior and the other a freshman, have tennis scheduled from 9-11 a.m. So as soon as I finish breakfast, and clean the kitchen, it is time to fetch food for them. I am considering that they should just refer to me as “the Cook” because I am spending so much time in the kitchen and do not rate to claim the status of a chef. Although I have four hungry males to feed each day, I do not really feel my time is spent productively in cooking all day. Yet, I acknowledge their current need to be well fed, and I somehow picked the short straw and have become expected, perhaps from my own upbringing and norm expectations, that I am the one cooking. In a few hours, after visiting my doctor for a checkup, shopping for groceries, and checking my email, I will begin the dinner cooking project. Then it will be time to work out with Riad (we may bike or go to the golf range), eat my cuisine, and once again lament that I did not get the chance to steam the wallpaper from my bedroom walls in the slow process of fixing the house for eventual sale. That is okay though, because Riad is still earning the money to pay for a new roof, so I have some time to work on the interior. If lucky, I will get the chance to organize receipts and clutter from our export business, and sort through papers from other projects recently completed… just in time for summer.

Don’t lose the chance. Each day counts so much in these preciously beautiful days. Take time to enjoy!

Coming Home!

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Coming Home

Of all the human drives, the need to create and express has been pounding on my door for a while, and with it has come odd threads, episodes in random times, in which I find myself rambling within my thoughts things I desire to express. Years ago, I would lie awake at night with such profound sentences that were streaming from the fountain of my mind, that I had to rise up, get a legal pad and start pouring pages through my pen until I could sleep. At that time, I often wrote of my husband’s heroic mother who walked from Amman to the West Bank to reclaim the home from which they fled under threat of massacre, crossing the Jordan River under gunfire from Israeli soldiers. Sometimes, I also wrote of my own experiences and impressions as a young American, newly married, woman who ventured into the West Bank town of Abu Dis sans knowledge of Arabic or the Palestinian culture, and witnessed the ill-treatment and frustrations of the noble civilians living under occupation.

Then the well ran dry, and I spent my energies raising children, improving my knowledge of Arabic and Islam, earning a master’s degree, and working full time at my children’s fledging Islamic school; and although I occasionally had a few more spurts of prose in me, I calculated that I had no seriously valued contributions to offer. So I no longer wrote; until recently, a mentor tapped the well to find and encourage my expression. Sharing wisdoms gleaned from life’s experiences, readings, and interpretations, we opened new vistas of growth, and abilities were enhanced through practice. It was very satisfying to not just write as one does for assignments, but to flow in playful expression using the language as an artist uses a palette of colors, textures, and subjects to reveal a treasure conceived and tangibly accessed.

Writers need to write; I’ve given in to the impulse after much reflection, and decided that it is a drive as legitimate as any. Perhaps it should also be viewed as a gift, and in such indulgence there lies hope that value will be derived should anyone else read. To this intent, I commit to title this “It’s a Halal Life,” and will stake claim as a trademarked entity should I compile writing for commercial publication.

The subject of Halal is commonly used in regard to Halal food; however, the essence of the term is to refer to what God has decreed as lawful. The word Halal, in the Holy Qur’an, is also always paired with the term Tayib, which is translated as being good or wholesome. It is my belief that we humans should strive to keep ourselves as pure as possible from sin, to essentially leave this life in a state of purity, as we were when born. Yet, it is unreasonable to think that we can lock ourselves away from the world to maintain isolation in order to be pure. Far from that, we need to be engaged socially with all the worldly issues and work to keep the Earth and its inhabitants protected from harm. In choosing right actions, in requesting God’s forgiveness, and in avoiding harmful deeds and properties, we can gain Purity. So I open the fountain again to whatever my musings bring, and hope that they give guidance and pleasure in honor of the wonderful gifts I have enjoyed in my life. After much travel, I wish to address the experience of Coming Home…

This year has brought business trips to Long Beach, San Diego, and San Francisco in California, as well as, Mt. Sterling, Kentucky. My husband, Riad, and I have a long established export trade company, and recently I have become more immersed in developing it. Although it originated in 1983, I’ve left it dormant until essentially turning it over to Riad in 2000. He has provided sundry goods for clients in Jordan, Saudia Arabia, and some of the Gulf countries, and now we would like to increase suppliers and buyers to expand. It has been a treat to meet some of his suppliers, travel to new places, and have the peace of mind that the years we’d sacrificed working to afford parochial school for our kids has resulted in knowing that they can be safely left at this mature stage on their own to care for our home and not get into trouble. For me, also, has been the resurrection of my golf game, which I put off for some 25 years while raising children and money for our needs. Golf has been a mainstay pastime for my dad and brothers, and I encouraged my husband to adopt it in order to develop rapport with them. So I willingly came back to be bit by the bug, and am missing a round with Riad now so that I can complete this and an editing project for a colleague’s dissertation.

About coming home…it tends to elicit melancholic emotions and thoughts. On the one hand, it’s great to be back in the most comfortable surroundings, one’s own home. Yet, especially if you land at the dark and gloomy, crypt-like United terminal in Chicago, you immediately wish to get back on a plane to anywhere else. Since most flights lately have been on United or American for us, I can readily contrast them with Virgin America. We flew Virgin to San Francisco and were pleased with the experience; and a unique experience is what they give you. From the very cheerful gate personnel playing a boombox of 2010 dance tunes at 6:30 a.m. and pleasantly joking with the bleary-eyed passengers that they cajoled into having a fun attitude, to the mauve lighting tracked along the windows on both sides of the plane, and the most interesting pre-flight instructional video I’ve ever seen, the airline was terrific. My only criticism was that the coffee was more like weak tea. I should have insisted on a re-do, but I was willing to overlook this single weak link in their performance.

Then coming home, while having its place and bringing a settled or landed resolution to the stresses of travel, also yields a sense of depression. For good or bad, you see everything with new eyes. The things that bugged you, bug you more. The people that you wanted to avoid are not easily ditched. You have no excuse to not be present, and you have mountains of bills, emails, and junk mail that need attention. The mess you left behind, in addition to the dust that accumulated in your absence, cries for a clean sweep. And then there is the unpacking…The trivialities of life come charging at you, and you wonder why you feel stressed and swamped? Yet, I attest that I would not trade away the travel joys and memories just because of these inconveniences.

Simply allowing myself to keep at least one post-travel day completely free helps immensely in acclimating to life in the former fast and demanding pace. If you don’t feel like grocery shopping, then find something in the cabinets to eat just to get by for a day. Lolling in bed when the whim arises, especially if jet-lagged, is imperative. Accepting the transition to take time is also advised, as is getting outside for fresh air and insisting on some gentle return to the gym for weightlifting and cardio perks up the inevitable blues that come when coming home. Of course, then you’ll want to plan for a round of golf, as that always brings a happy feeling.

With that, there comes a sense of “what’s next” and iconic memories to relive in many moments coming, perhaps still years later to be enjoyed. That makes every bit of those coming home travails worthwhile, and the hope to do it over and over again.