01 April 2008
A Moment of Frivolity
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:
And if you do feel the need to try to mimic a peacock with your hijab style, at least Scarf World lets you go literal:
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 Hijab Girl's and al-Muhajabat's square scarves for nice, plain, affordable, lovely-colored chiffons 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.
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:
And if you do feel the need to try to mimic a peacock with your hijab style, at least Scarf World lets you go literal:
 |  |
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 Hijab Girl's and al-Muhajabat's square scarves for nice, plain, affordable, lovely-colored chiffons 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
25 March 2008
Jazakallah ...
Jazakallah khair to all who replied to the posts on this blog. I hope you understand my quietude, although I can not exactly claim it's out of the ordinary for me anyway.
I have been thinking much, sometimes too much, about things both personal and not, but it's been difficult to find the words -- any words, really. Refer back to the normalcy of quiet. I want what is basic, what is beautiful, what is sometimes frivolous, and only what is legitimately heavy in the mind and on the heart. So I am thinking about Allah subhana wa ta'ala, and family and future and what I might have for people who need, and also about nature and fashion and what might invoke the giggles of my son. Balance, but a balance which consciously leaves off from indulgence in things which clench the jaw and harden the heart. The traps seemingly inherent to politics and the nightly news. Laundry lists of strictly intellectual opinions. Culturally compulsory identity politics. How have I ever had the time? How did I imagine I had the time?
I am finding my way -- a personal way, a local way, and above all a very small way. And I think -- and can not see how it can be wrong -- that a life lived in small ways may turn out the truest way of all.
I have been thinking much, sometimes too much, about things both personal and not, but it's been difficult to find the words -- any words, really. Refer back to the normalcy of quiet. I want what is basic, what is beautiful, what is sometimes frivolous, and only what is legitimately heavy in the mind and on the heart. So I am thinking about Allah subhana wa ta'ala, and family and future and what I might have for people who need, and also about nature and fashion and what might invoke the giggles of my son. Balance, but a balance which consciously leaves off from indulgence in things which clench the jaw and harden the heart. The traps seemingly inherent to politics and the nightly news. Laundry lists of strictly intellectual opinions. Culturally compulsory identity politics. How have I ever had the time? How did I imagine I had the time?
I am finding my way -- a personal way, a local way, and above all a very small way. And I think -- and can not see how it can be wrong -- that a life lived in small ways may turn out the truest way of all.
12 February 2008
A Chapter Two
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.
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.
26 January 2008
Opening
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.
.
.
.
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.
.
.
.
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.
.
.
.
I am saddened of course, deeply so.
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.
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.
.
.
.
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.
.
.
.
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.
.
.
.
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.
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