Impossibly Blue Skies

I would stay late sometimes. Not in summer when it seemed as though the whole world stayed late, but in winter when the doors were locked and the entire city was tucked in safely behind them against the chill. I grew up in the farmlands, I grew in the forests -- I live on quiet, search it out, wait for it as I must. I am a quiet woman; my husband was a quiet man; our street is a quiet near alleyway. And so the night would only be broken by the hastened footfalls of the odd passers-by or stray cats fighting in the distance, and at long last by the beautiful, so beautiful, voices of mostly old men echoing one other's call of the athan.

It is, in the end, always the seemingly nondescript moments which come back to us the most, and which carry with them the most weight of feeling for the longest span of time.

While most of these are priced outside of ordinarily affordable range, for gifts or special occasions it can be nice to look outside of conventional hijab sources to come up with something especially elegant or unusual. A few options:

Museum Stores



Larger art museums tend to love nothing more than making reproductions of their pieces for sale in their gift shops -- posters, postcards, t-shirts, umbrellas, and yes, scarves. While many of us may not delight in the idea of walking around with a Kandinksy painting wrapped around our heads (although of course some might, and some of the most common reproductions on scarves to be found are stroke-for-stroke copies of the works of Van Gogh or Monet), don't also forget that museums display a great many textiles and prints that convert beautifully into less blatant art reproduction apparel. What's more, many also sell online, if good museums are regionally inaccessible to you. The above examples are from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Boston Museum of Fine Arts and the Art Institute of Chicago have some lovely shop-from-home selections as well. They are definitely not priced for everyday wear but, as said above, make especially lovely gifts.

(Note the second in the top row particularly. It is a William Morris print; as an Arts and Crafts primarily floral wallpaper designer his work usually is especially appropriate and not so difficult to find, be it as scarves, handbags, or just raw fabrics to do with as you wish.)

Specialty Textile Dealers




I have a thing for Lao weaving as is above. I was absolutely delighted, then, to come across Marla Mallett who, in addition to various antique textiles, deals in contemporary Lao silks. They are heavy. Not break-your-neck heavy, but certainly dense in a way that is inappropriate for warm weather. They are expensive. Again not necessarily breaking the bank any more than the neck, but still out of the range of what most of us would be comfortable spending on ourselves without a particular reason. But still they are stunning, and on just the right person at just the right formal occasion they could be perfect.

Still, for more comfortable, casual, and affordable wear there are also those who deal in indian block prints. They are often more elaborate and prettier than machine prints, in my own opinion, although it can sometimes take some weeding through to find something you like if you prefer a more muted palate, as I do.



You might try scarves such as the above examples from Heritage Trading (who also deals in slightly more expensive -- though less so than the Lao brocades -- woven and embroidered shawls). Since they update their available inventory often (think daily), if their prints seem a bit much it is worthwhile to check back again.

Labels: scarfistry

It is, of course, likely that I will remarry.

I think about it sometimes. I am, after all, twenty-eight years old, not eighty-two. I do not think in decisive terms -- there is above all first the matter of the iddat. But I do consider, the very act of which I know is offensive to some.

I was cautioned that it is proper to wait at least a year after the death of a spouse. Nevermind a term of mourning lasting just over four months. Nevermind until the birth of a child. Just as those who find polygamy broadly and inherently offensive point out that it was a concession in a time of war and widespread widowhood, implying or sometimes directly stating that outside of those conditions it is at best distasteful, so too do those who find early remarriage offensive point out the same. Surely widows can care for themselves better now than then. Surely widows have better options now than then. Surely what is clearly improper had to be permitted -- given the different conditions of that time.

Although I am not clear on from where this view of early Muslims comes. Even in hardship were women so desperate that they gleefully attached themselves in marriage to any man who might provide a regular bite of bread? Not in the stories that I know.

Marriage is not primarily about being cared for. Or rather it is, but not in those terms. Be it a first marriage, a second, or beyond, the hope is the same: to love and to be loved, to care for and to be cared for, to find in marriage a place of inexplicable tenderness, comfort, and warmth. The wish for these does not abate because a spouse has died -- it intensifies for having been something known and lost.

I miss my husband. I miss being married to my husband. And I miss being married. These are three very different co-existing feelings. They are not bonded together. In any individual case a woman might feel one, two, or all three of these depending on her own personal circumstances. Being not bonded, it is entirely possible to act to assuage one without it being a reflection on the presence or strength of the others. This is where inexperience damages understanding. Because when a connection is assumed, as it commonly is, for one to sooth their sense of longing for marriage itself necessarily reflects upon their feelings towards the marriage they had and lost.

In truth, if one who had lost waited until they no longer felt the loss of the individual, so most all would wait until their own deaths. A year would be no more sufficient than a day. And some do. And they are not wrong. No more so than the woman who on the fourth month and eleventh day receives a suitor, and announces an intent.

Labels: marriage, personal

Living in a bit of a backwater these days, when looking for a decent maternity-friendly summer abaya (measurement-taking discovery: when pregnant most of my form turns into a remarkably perfect triangle) as well as a few new scarves, I turned to the world of online shopping. And it was there that I saw it: it was neon. Animal print. Sequined. Badly embroidered. Glittery. And see-through.

It was what, apparently all too often, seems to pass for fashion hijabs.

Blessedly I've never actually seen such a thing on a woman as I've now seen on the web, but for the sake of my online shopping sisters I thought I'd point out a few in-my-opinion somewhat more tasteful finds:

Hijab Girl

A really nice selection of large, casual, affordable wraps, particularly striped wraps. I bought for myself these two:



... both of which are available in a wide array of colors, alongside a handful of other pretty options. (They also have really tasteful two-piece slip on prayer garments, among other things.)

Shukr

After, as usual on this site, admiring any number of clothing items I can't really afford (and which wouldn't fit my aforementioned triangularly shaped form right now anyway), I did find this beautiful jacquard wrap:



The Hijab Shop



The particularly nice thing about The Hijab Shop is that they carry a large collection of subtley woven patterns wholly appropriate for professional settings or every day wear, and that when their selections do go glittery they are moderate enough so as to not make one feel that their reflection might be seen from space. They may not make you sit up and say "wow!," but they are still beautiful and more importantly beautifully functional.

Scarf World

Also U.K. based and often a little pricey (occasionally very pricey) even aside from shipping, still I love Scarf World. I love them because they carry a huge selection of woven prints -- generally bad for summer, but in my opinion usually far richer and classier in appearance than ink prints. They're quite heavy on paisleys, but do also carry a nice array of florals, stripes, gradients, etc.



Sheer scarves and chiffons are also abundant. I like this modern stripe print for layering, for example, much though it could never work alone:



Summer-Weight Solids

Veiled By Design is carrying a nice turn on solid colored wraps with their two-tone silk scarves:



(Also an excellent place to turn if you're looking for a variety of plain, colored tube-style underscarves.)

I also suggest looking at al-Mujalbaba's, Hijab Girl's, and al-Muhajabat's scarves for nice, plain, affordable, lovely-colored squares in about 40" and 60" sizes.

Ten Thousand Villages

I don't actually suggest shopping online here -- they do carry a narrow selection of scarves online, but also typically of the pricier variety and often not very hijab-friendly at that. I do suggest using their site to find a local store, however, for those of us in the U.S. or Canada. Their locations vary in size and selection, but those which do carry more clothing items often have beautiful, hand-crafted, fair trade scarves you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else.



And finally ...

Ebay. Really. Most of what you'll find there is a little questionable, but there's always the occasional gem. I, for example, recently picked up the following (which is now making me wish the cold would last longer to extend its wearable season):



If you have the time to hunt, you just never know what's to be found.

Labels: scarfistry

Every story goes on, doesn't it?

It was the thirtieth of January. I know this exactly because I had just one day left in which to move before incurring the expense of another month's rent, and therefore was traveling from my family home back to our home to empty it of the last residues of our short life there together, to clean, and to return our keys. Simple matters, although sad ones too. When I felt the baby move.

I know that feeling. I understand it is different for every woman but still my experiences of that have made it impossible for me to comprehend how anyone might continue long unaware of a pregnancy. For me it is unmistakable. Even in the following week of my desire for denial, every time I felt it I knew.

Twice I've been pregnant and twice I've bungled the discovery of it a bit such that it was delayed. In Egypt, just pregnant with Ziad, I was sick already, the early suspicions test read negative, and private health matters disrupted the ease of the simplest way to know. In America, just pregnant with this unborn child, my husband was sick already, the early test read negative, and private health matters again interfered. In Egypt knowing took a desperate retest in the search for answers to nearly two month's worth of nausea. In America knowing took the first movements tangible to me, now three or up to even four months onward.

Insha'allah there will be a surprise summer child, something beautiful and bittersweet.

And I'm only sorry that my husband didn't know.
He'd have been so happy to know.

I used to run the blog "Synaptic Cartography." "Run" is a generous word -- it's more like I used to occasionally swing by blog-land when I had that overwhelming urge to anonymously pontificate. I'm guessing few remember me -- I was never a heavy commenter, and probably will never be. Still I'd like to start anew, if not necessarily with the promise of more presence.

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A story, in brief:

In 2005 I met and was engaged to my husband.

In the summer of 2006 we married, moved to my new spouse's hometown of Alexandria, and in the autumn of that same year we found we were expecting a child.

In the February of 2007, after much heartwrenching discussion, I came back to America alone to give birth to our beautiful son, who came into this world in the middle of May. In July my husband and I at long last reunited. And in the waning days of December he passed away.

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Why "Impossibly Blue Skies"?

Because so deep and personal a loss is to my reframed view a reminder of the consciousness with which we must approach each time in the day we stop to say ar-Rahman ir-Rahim. Because I mean to believe what I say.

Because my husband was not mine, nor did he belong to our son, to his parents, his siblings, his friends, or any of the other bereaved. He was a light. He was loved. But he was not ours to keep. To Him we belong and to Him is our return.

Because there is a smiling child pulling himself up to peer over the top of my laptop screen. Because I am neither hungry nor destitute nor despairing without options. Because Allah subhana wa ta'ala does not place a burden upon any soul more than what it can bear.

Because the prophet salallahu alayhi wa salaam implored us to abundantly have rememberance of death. Because such remembrance should not be a matter of gloom for our hearts.

Because my husband used to wish before me to extend our time together in Jannah. And so I wish it too ... and so I pray on it too.

Because all of this ends. Because nothing created is eternal; because I am not the center and I can not leave my loss to be the center of me. Because losses do not mean that skies may no longer be so beautiful shades of blue.

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I am saddened of course, deeply so.

We went with Allah's Apostle (p.b.u.h) to the blacksmith Abu Saif, and he was the husband of the wet-nurse of Ibrahim (the son of the Prophet). Allah's Apostle took Ibrahim and kissed him and smelled him and later we entered Abu Saif's house and at that time Ibrahim was in his last breaths, and the eyes of Allah's Apostle (p.b.u.h) started shedding tears. 'Abdur Rahman bin 'Auf said, "O Allah's Apostle, even you are weeping!" He said, "O Ibn 'Auf, this is mercy." Then he wept more and said, "The eyes are shedding tears and the heart is grieved, and we will not say except what pleases our Lord, O Ibrahim! Indeed we are grieved by your separation."

Who could possibly not be saddened by the death of people beloved to themselves? We have never been implored by Allah subhana wa ta'ala to remain cold or closed. The prophet salallahu alayhi wa salaam wept, for Khadijah, for his children who passed, for companions and believers, for revelations and for sorrows great. No one might in earnest suggest that it is better to suppress what he himself did not. "Allah does not punish for shedding tears nor for the grief of the heart ..." But even in grief there may be paths to choose between dignity and indignity. '"... but he punishes or bestows his mercy because of this," and pointed to his tongue ...' "Whatever comes from the eye and heart is from Allah and is a sign of mercy, and whatever comes from your hand and your tongue is from the shaytan." And so in sadness I strive to mourn with dignity; I seek mercy and mercifully find what I seek.

The Prophet passed by a woman who was sitting and weeping beside a grave and said to her, "Fear Allah and be patient."

Sadness is tempered by nothing greater than the truest forms of patience. From this time it is this that I hope to remember always, until my own reckoning. I had immediately felt drawn to speak with other widows -- who else should have understood my feeling more than they? But I found widows -- not all, but some -- still struggling with their grief even years after the deaths of their spouses, struggling in ways which hold them bound to a time in their lives now past. It's not my intention to speak against them -- they are women in great and highly visible pain. But while I feel compassion for them I also can not help but to draw a comparison which shows a difference between trying to fight tooth and nail against what is decreed and already done and persevering with patience in the knowledge given to man by God. In the knowledge of sufferings and pleasures, in what is the domain of the Nourisher and the Reckoner, the Giver of Life and the Bringer of Death. By one way there is stalled torment. By the other, there is still light and life.

Above all I seek an-Nur, I seek light.