I am a fan of this intelligent, eloquent, big-hearted, passionate and gorgeous lady, Myriam Francois Cerrah, whose blog now sits on my favourites bar. Hurray for inspiring women as role models.






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Unrelated but, I noticed the date -- Happy Birthday, Harry Potter! Hah. :D I believe he's supposed to be 32 years old today?

I have been imbued with some strange positive vibe tonight, despite the fact that my first thesis draft is due in a few days and I am of course nowhere near done. I'm not complaining; just hoping this lasts.

It would be awesome if this blessed month reflected on my academic work.

Hate no one, no matter how much they've wronged you.
Live humbly, no matter how wealthy you've become.
Think positively, no matter how hard life is.
Give much, even if you've been given little.
Keep in touch, with the ones who have forgotten you, and
Do not stop praying for the best for those you love.

- Sayidina Ali B. Abi Talib r.a.

I picked this book up at NLB yesterday.

It highlights what seems intuitive to a lot of us: that promiscuity and unusual or different (read: perverted and unnatural) sexual behaviour is bad; but this doctor proves that it's medically so. Because liberal persons and groups will just scoff at you if you speak of anything to do with morality and God forbid, religion, they need a doctor to show them some hard facts. This is a brave lady who seems to really care abut the welfare and health of young people, especially young women, her personal ideologies and beliefs aside (I don't even know what these are).

It's a compelling view: that promiscuity isn't condemned as much as drug use, alcohol, or smoking when it appears equally dangerous. It's not even a moral stance, people! It's about your health! But people and institutions of authority are pretending these facts don't exist and celebrate Hollywood-style sexual liberation-ism, because, Grossman opined, they are pushing a political/social agenda (or in my opinion, they insist on being Godless and self-destructive, come what may). 

Alhamdulillah, all of the above is forbidden in Islam. Seriously, women, trust God to protect you, not misleading feminists.

Ramadhan Mubarak! Time must be especially managed and spent wisely now.

Insya Allah, we will all see him after this world. :')

This is an awesomely succinct summary of why the niqab shouldn't be banned! :) I'm not a fan of it either, and a Muslim woman I am too (for I believe that all that is stipulated by God is everything covered but the face and hands) -- but ultimately, niqab is a choice that harms no one. And in my personal view, is just an excuse to attack my faith as a whole.



This dude has this perpetual, exasperated I-can't-believe-I-even-have-to-explain-such-a-simple-thing expression on his face; so amusing.

No matter where God planted you it is your task to expose yourself to the light.

:)

from Why the trees lean in

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

- Desiderate the Desired Things

Our first proper meet-up for the year! I thought it deserved a special post.

Who knows when we'll meet up next. :P

Thought for the day:

God is Kind, but God is also Wise.


Happy Nisfu Syaaban. <3

"I missed you," I said, pulling Dov down to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. I wanted so much to take his hand into mine, to kiss his cheek, to hug him and hold him. Instead I just stared at the tangle of uncombed hair at the back of his head, I wished he would look at me, but I knew he couldn't. Not when he was like this. Just sitting beside me without shrieking, for this precious moment, was the greatest gift Dov could give me. I knew it took every ounce of his energy and concentration to do it. "I love you," I said quietly, getting up as slowly as I could.


"How about some pajamas?" I asked, rummaging through his dresser drawers. I tried to help him put them on but whenever I touched him he doubled over, laughing hysterically. He could not stop. "Was everything okay while I was away?" I asked, trying to ignore his behaviour and my despair. "C'mon, let's get these on." I was on the verge of tears. Dov couldn't stop laughing; he laughed until he was screaming.


Then suddenly, just as inexplicably, he began sobbing uncontrollably, a deep, mournful, despairing kind of crying. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks. I stared at him in utter grief, unable to know what was going on in his mind and heart. Finally, I just hugged him tightly, locking my arms around him and rocking us both, brushing away my owns tears on my sleeve.


I didn't really believe in praying. But that didn't stop me from doing it. In fact, I prayed all the time. And not just for Dov but for all the children in the world who suffered from autism. They all deserved a miracle.


But I wanted a modern miracle. The old-fashioned miracle where one person at a time was saved just wasn't acceptable anymore. No, modern miracles were much bigger than that: They had to be reproducible; they required clinical trials and publication in peer reviewed journals. Modern miracles were for the masses, not just one individual. That's why we started CAN (Cure Autism Now). What good was a miracle, after all, if it saved only one little boy? No, I never prayed just for Dov -- until now.


I felt defeated, destroyed, inadequate, broken down. I would accept any kind of miracle right now, even the senseless, one-in-a-million, unreproducible kind that cured only one person. I was too devastated to be altruistic any longer. I just wanted God to fix Dov - to save him, to cure him, to help him get better - because this was no way to live.


And then Dov started communicating with an alphabet board, and they discovered he had an intelligent and intact mind beyond their imagining.





Miracles, I was learning, not only brought joy but by their very definition must shatter your world, casting everything you thought you knew to the four winds.

- Strange Son, by Portia Iversen

I am totally going to rave about this book to my classmates. Already started today. It is overwhelming to contemplate the possibility that the low-functioning autistics we've come across actually have complete minds that feel and think like any other. The only reason this isn't in out textbooks, I feel, though I've yet to dig up more on this, is that there is a lack of EBP (i.e. evidence-based practice) and they just haven't distilled the intervention procedure to be scientifically acceptable (and with concrete valid theories etc).

That's the problem with science. It takes itself far too seriously and blinds itself to wondrous possibilities.