A Cup of Shai

Thousands of Muslims from all over the world have flocked to Saudi Arabia to perform one of the pillars of Islam; the  Hajj . It is the major pilgrimage in which different rituals are performed over 5 days in the Islamic month  Dhul   Hijjah .        Some of the main rituals include; circling God's House, the  Ka'bah   (the black cube above) seven times, walking between the Mountains  Safah   and  Marwah , and also s leeping beneath the stars. Whilst all these rituals have historical importance, it was something else which moved me when I performed some of these rites in the minor pilgrimage:  Umrah .    The first thing which struck me on the  Umrah  is that all the pilgrims were required to dress uniform.  The females were dressed in loose fitted dresses or robes and all the males were dressed in two pieces of white material; one forming a toga, and the second being a loincloth. I found it humbling how someone's material identity was completely stripped a

It is hard. HARD. To Be You. To Be yourself. Especially for girls (I think) in a world where at the click of a button, Instagram and Snapchat open up portals and access to the photos of so many gorgeous girls. You’re constantly measuring yourself up against other people and where they are in their lives. “She’s so pretty. She’s so smart. She’s so clever. She’s so brainy. She’s so witty. She’s so talented. She’s so confident. She’s so special. She’s so glamorous.” *goes to sleep helplessly* And it IS hard to not play the comparison game. Because subconsciously, this constant exposure and intake of media suddenly makes you question ‘Well...should I be doing that?’ ‘Should I be more chatty?’ ‘Perhaps I’m not pretty enough?’ ‘Perhaps I’m not clever enough?’ ‘Should I try harder?’ ‘Am I not good enough if this is the standard for the 21st century?’ But the trap is that we’re comparing everybody’s ‘Front’ with our Realities. On the surface, someone may look a

My neice and I Mini-humans are some of the most amazing, intelligent and funny things to walk this planet. And then sometimes they throw a tantrum and start crying “because the ice-cream finished!!” No, they do not have in-built ‘Turn to Happy Mode’ button, so here is a list I’ve made from my Teaching and Aunty-ing experiences on ways to calm a child.  Ask them if they’d like a cuddle. “Would you like a hug?” Then respond accordingly. Let the child hug you , so they can take their time when they’re ready. *hug. Pat pat pat “awwww, there there...”* Hold their hand and give it a little squeeze. Stroke their face. Wipe their tears away. “Don’t spoil this pretty/handsome face with these tears.” Take them for a little walk and tell them how amazing they are.   Let them calm down, and then proceed to ask what has upset them  Clear instructions: “I would like you to wash your face and have a drink of water.”   “Would you like a chat? Tell me why you’re crying.”   “Do yo

Peace. We all crave it. In the modern day life of chasing promotions, professions and possessions, sometimes I feel as though we tend to forget the one ‘P’ we direly miss. Peace.  Peace in the sense of harmony.  Peace in the sense of balance.  Peace in the sense of an inner-wellbeing.  And Peace just in the sense of...just being. Just...floating.  To not...do. To not...want. To...just be. Just Be. Someone commented to me ‘It's a glorious Friday afternoon. The wind’s making the trees flutter.’ And I looked at them in confusion. At first. And then I realised what they were getting at. They were asking me to observe nature, and in doing so, bringing a stillness, a peace toward me. And that’s when it happened. I wouldn’t say that it was the moment I’d *changed*, Lord no! But I would definitely say it was the point where I felt ‘permission’ to not be busy. To not be doing something. And just be. This is what they meant. Just be. To allow each day to bring

  “Bellydancing.” What kind of an image came into your mind? A beautiful, brown belle dancing away, whilst a large man sits on his throne of cushions. A thundering clap or three in approval. She offers him a gracious smile of thanks. It’s the popular, sexualised and Orientalist image which has long been, throughout centuries’ worth of popular culture and literature been made the 'truth'. That image which makes you switch to the other channel in haste, as your family suddenly become interested in the wallpaper!   The real waves of sexualised images of ‘Bellydancing Babes’ originate from the Victorian era when male traders and travellers started to excitedly explore, discovering and document the Middle East and Asian continents. Nineteenth century merchants would visit harems, but because they weren’t allowed in the women’s section, they began to spin a tale of what lay beyond those gilded doors.    They started fantasising about the beautiful women, and conveniently