Recently, in a writing critique group, I nervously shared my idea for a book I want to write. I prefaced this idea with “I am not a writer, but…” As soon as that sentence left my mouth, I knew it was the wrong thing to say around this group of people and I promptly heard […]
Why You Should Call Yourself a Writer Read More »
“I can’t see anything!” Someone exclaims, trying to push away the cloudy fog in vain so he can see the road.
“You should get used to it,” Anyone replies, nonchalantly, walking further and further until Someone can barely see Anyone, “It’s like this everywhere except The County.”
“I’m telling you,” Someone insists, “I’m not from The County!”
“Then where did you come from?” Anyone replies, sneering. “Earth?”
The World of Rethar Read More »
Four ways to care for your inner writer, no candles needed Like other kinds of art, writing asks us to transform our feelings, experiences, and ideas—abstractions that only exist in our mind—into a concrete form that can be experienced by others. That is difficult and important work! How can we make sure to take care
Self-Care for Writers Read More »
Fajr finds a choir of morning birds serenading me.Would that I could trade them for the velvet cooing of the mother doveWho lives on my window ledge in Syria, four stories up. “Ithikreeni Da’iman,” calls Damascus“Remember me always”And I do. I long for the soft invitation of the athaan at fajrFloating, beckoning on clear morning
Ithikreeni Da’iman Read More »
Think about the last time you settled in with a good book, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. It’s a universal ritual of comfort and focus. Now, let me ask you a question that might seem strange: What does that cup of coffee have to do with a polymath who lived in Baghdad over
The Unlikely Link Between Your Coffee and a Ninth-Century Muslim Genius Read More »
“You live here now, you can take all of that off.”
I untangle the dark thread of your bias from around my heart, and discard it. Turn.
After years of yearning for a child, I bend in prayer and feel the first flutter of her movement.
I reach my hand out to the golden thread of gratefulness and wrap it around my heart. Turn.
At the foundation of every story is a character. And at the foundation of that character is something they yearn for. Something they need or want that will shape their actions and relationships the entire journey, whether they know it or not. Harry Potter wanted family, love, and safety. Pip in Great Expectations wanted to
Power, Power, Who’s Got the Power? Read More »
Oh faithful guest
The day you come for me,
Will my soul be at its best,
Waiting to be free?
The long, carefree days of summer are winding to a close, giving way to autumn. Hints of amber tug at the lush green leaves of the crepe myrtle standing tall in my backyard, a gentle reminder that change is in the air. Yellow school buses have begun to dot the landscape, transporting children to days of reading, writing, and routine. I recall the days when I was sitting on the bus staring out the window at all the cars speeding past. Life now has me behind the wheel, reflecting on where time has gone and where I am heading. While driving my daughter to school, we found ourselves stopped behind the bus. I turned to her and asked her if she could assign a season to each of the stages of life, where would she find herself?
Bobo jaan was a tall, sangeen (dignified, respectfully polished) woman who wore long dresses, crisp white pants, and soft chiffon hijabs. Her friends called her Bibi Shireen. She had this quiet confidence about her that came with being the matriarch of our family. Her husband, my grandfather, passed away from a heart attack in Afghanistan when she was still very young, and her youngest son, my father, was only four years old. She never remarried. Growing up, Bobo jaan would babysit us when our parents were at work. She lived in the same apartment complex as we did.
Toward the Almonds of Jannah Read More »
