I've been thinking a lot about contentment these days. What is contentment? What can one do to achieve contentment? Achieving contentment is one of the daily challenges Allah has presented us with. Is it just a problem specific to women, or both genders? In talking with all my girl friends, cousins, female relatives, I often think discontentment is a woman's curse. We're just never satisfied. Something good happens in our life and we're content for a short time, and then its time to improve it, to perfect it, to want more.
Allah has told us, ask me, and I will give it to you. Can this be abused? Let's say, for example, a couple wants to have their first child. So they pray, Oh Allah, if it is good for us, let us get pregnant. Then, when they get pregnant, their prayer is for a healthy, uncomplicated pregnancy. Then when its delivery time, their prayer is for a healthy baby. Then when the baby is born, their prayer is for a happy healthy child who lives a long successful righteous life. Then, when that baby is a few years old, their prayer is for a second child. And the cycle begins all over again. Can you ask for too much? Is this continuous cycle of asking being ungrateful for all the blessings you have already been given? Sometimes, I find myself praying to Allah, with my long list of duas, and I feel ashamed that I keep asking and that I can never ever ever be grateful enough for all the blessings I already have. I shouldn't feel ashamed, because He is the only one I can ask and He has promised to take care of us, but, at the same time, I feel like continuously asking for more and more and more is a form of ingratitude. Is this a form of ingratitude? Discontentment with the status quo? Am I reading into it wrong?
And then every so often, as a reminder, you meet someone in a worse situation than you, someone who has next to nothing, who is sick all the time, has no family, and experiences difficulty every day of their life, but that one person is more content than anyone else you know. More grateful for every day than you could ever be. And yet, we are made to forget these reminders as quickly as they come, so that we go back to our ungrateful selves.
And then there's the whole contentment with the self thing. My mother is a perfectionist. And perfection is never achieved in her eyes. So no matter what it was, it was always, you can do better next time, it's important to keep improving one self, etc. So if you do want to improve yourself, does that indicate that you are not content with yourself? And if you don't want to improve yourself, then you are content with yourself, but is that a good place to be Islamically? Islamically, aren't you supposed to be in a continuous self-improving process?
Just some things that have been on my mind for the past few days...comments would be appreciated.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Sunday, May 13, 2007
The Call to Prayer
Every so often, while I'm eating lunch, or watching the sun set, if I'm lucky enough, I am able to hear the adhaan being called from the masjid by my house. The masjid is built so the call to prayer can be heard on the streets just as it is in a Muslim country. I say if I am lucky because the masjid doesn't turn on the loudspeaker every prayer, they only do it every so often. Last Friday I was lucky.
Subhanallah there is something about hearing the call to prayer outside of a masjid that is so calming. It's different if you're at the masjid already and the time for prayer comes in and the adhaan is called. Or if you're at home and you have one of the electronic adhaan reciters. But if you're just doing your own thing, at home, like eating lunch, or at the store, or wherever, and all of a sudden, you hear the adhaan being called from the local masjid - I can't even find the words to describe it. Perhaps I appreciate it so much because it reminds me of my experiences in the various Muslim countries I have visited, where that is part of the normal routine every day, every prayer. Or perhaps it is special because I realize that even ten years ago, hearing the adhaan like that would be unimaginable. Or perhaps its just hearing the call to prayer outside of a masjid - perhaps its just supposed to have that effect on you - where you stop what you're doing and just reflect on the words being recited.
I remember the first time I heard the adhaan in my house. We had just moved in a few months back, and one of the things I loved about my house was that I could see the masjid everyday from my windows. It was this perfect, unobstructed view from our window. It was Ramadan, and we were both up for sahoor, and it was getting close to Fajr time. We would try to make it to Fajr everyday at the masjid. One day, we were running a little late, and were in the last stages of making wudu. While I was waiting for Tariq, I started to hear something very familiar, and then strained very hard. Finally, I just opened the window, even though it was very cold. And there, so crystal clear, was the adhaan being called. I was blown away. I mean, to think, it was Fajr time, which means it was very early, like 5am, in Hyde Park, a diverse Chicago neighborhood, but not at all majority Muslim, to think that the adhaan is being called so clearly, enough that people even 4 blocks away can hear. I was amazed. But also late for Fajr at the mosque! Sometimes, though being late is a blessing, as in this case, where I discovered that the adhaan was not just heard in the masjid, but its call emitted outside as well.
Subhanallah there is something about hearing the call to prayer outside of a masjid that is so calming. It's different if you're at the masjid already and the time for prayer comes in and the adhaan is called. Or if you're at home and you have one of the electronic adhaan reciters. But if you're just doing your own thing, at home, like eating lunch, or at the store, or wherever, and all of a sudden, you hear the adhaan being called from the local masjid - I can't even find the words to describe it. Perhaps I appreciate it so much because it reminds me of my experiences in the various Muslim countries I have visited, where that is part of the normal routine every day, every prayer. Or perhaps it is special because I realize that even ten years ago, hearing the adhaan like that would be unimaginable. Or perhaps its just hearing the call to prayer outside of a masjid - perhaps its just supposed to have that effect on you - where you stop what you're doing and just reflect on the words being recited.
I remember the first time I heard the adhaan in my house. We had just moved in a few months back, and one of the things I loved about my house was that I could see the masjid everyday from my windows. It was this perfect, unobstructed view from our window. It was Ramadan, and we were both up for sahoor, and it was getting close to Fajr time. We would try to make it to Fajr everyday at the masjid. One day, we were running a little late, and were in the last stages of making wudu. While I was waiting for Tariq, I started to hear something very familiar, and then strained very hard. Finally, I just opened the window, even though it was very cold. And there, so crystal clear, was the adhaan being called. I was blown away. I mean, to think, it was Fajr time, which means it was very early, like 5am, in Hyde Park, a diverse Chicago neighborhood, but not at all majority Muslim, to think that the adhaan is being called so clearly, enough that people even 4 blocks away can hear. I was amazed. But also late for Fajr at the mosque! Sometimes, though being late is a blessing, as in this case, where I discovered that the adhaan was not just heard in the masjid, but its call emitted outside as well.
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