Coming of Age

Who knew it took this long just to get the colours and design of a blog right? I can’t remember how many times I’ve saved and refreshed this page just to check if the shade I chose is exactly the right one.

But it’s done now *phew* and I can go about the business of doing what it is that I sent out to when I signed up for this account – journal!

I should warn you that if you’re going to be a regular visitor (and you are aren’t you? *pout* *fluttering eyelashes*) then you should probably have a snack and a cup of (insert non-alcoholic beverage of choice here) with you. I like to talk, I like to write and I like to take my sweet time saying what I have to in just the right way.

There may be a lot of words, but trust me, each one has passed the test of worthiness before being allowed to appear on this page.

I wanted so much to begin writing yesterday, on the occasion of the martyrdom of the Holy Prophet (s), perhaps because I felt I might write some grand poetic verse. But I couldn’t and I didn’t. It’s funny how my emotions change so suddenly at the most inopportune times. Some days, I can sprout poetry that leaves me shocked when I put the pen down. Did I really come up with that? And how the hell did I manage it?

And some days, like yesterday, I seem to hone in on some part of me that I never knew existed simply because of another person’s expressions. When the zakir was speaking on the life of the Prophet (s), I suddenly realised how little I knew about him as a man. I mean, I know his accomplishments and what he did and why he is as great as he is, but do I connect to him on a personal level?

I think that is something I have only just begun to contemplate in the past year or so. And when you consider the fact that I’m just shy of 30 years of existence, it’s shaming 😦

What did make me feel good is that as I sat there for that one hour, I felt this sudden pain inside of me. And the first thought that came to mind was: “I wish I had been there with him” or “I wish he was here now”. It was a sense of complete and total loss. And it felt beautiful. Now I need to work on capturing that for everyday.

Although that brought on other unsavoury thoughts. If you’re Muslim, you’ve probably come across that poem about what would you do if the Prophet (s) came to your house right now. Well, for me it’s not so much to do with the things I have lying around (mostly books, threads, craft tools, papers and pens) but the thoughts in my head and the actions in my account *groan*

Okay, enough with the depressing thoughts. There’s a reason why I called this journal Peppermint Prose – to remind myself that I need to stay out of the tempting rut of pessimism and walk the sunny path of optimism. Even if the glare kills me. At least I’ll die smiling. (Or grimacing with eyes squinched shut.)

I have a life ahead of me, one of my own choosing. That’s what I need to concentrate on. And so should you.

Keep Smiling,
Binte Ali
PS My spell check tells me that ‘squinched’ is not in its dictionary. Well, it’s in my verbal vocabulary and I’ve never found a better word to replace it. So there.