k i s k a J i s m / w h o s e b o d y?


H o p s k i p j u m p f l u t t e r| Jihaad
August 9, 2007, 10:52 am
Filed under: Abominable eagle, identity, jihaad, Muslim, Screen Sifar, Woman

Causeway

Sometimes you learn to ignore the winds and just fly. But that, right now is rare.

Here I am. Labbaik.

In order to know the strands of your own oppression you need to delve into your identity. Labbaik. Here I am.

So, when you know how to fly you begin to think ‘really, but this was so obvious’. And you wonder what you left behind, the animagi you create, because this indeed is a place that you can look back from. But today, I just wonder. I don’t look back.

I shrug it off. And then I have to go because that is the way that things are. They must be. Inexorably.

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You survive. In some ways because you connected to an underbelly of pain far darker than yours.

Because you sat up, and left. Because you asked, “But how can I live like this?”And you met people who showed you the way.

Because you want to clean up the mess, and confront some of your own ilk. The duck of urgency, the crow of ownership, the peacock of wanting to be famous and the rooster of lust. Because you know that the war is within and you must from within. That is Jihaad. Cleaning up your own house. Your self, body, space, family, community, nation, world…

Being abominable is about resisting: against consumption, and being consumed…

Against giving in,

Against letting go,

Against losing out,

Against giving way,

Against being like everyone else,

Against everyone’s lust…Against your own lust.

It’s about speaking truth to power.

So the eagle didn’t believe completely what had happened. There were modes of reality that still made everything in the Giant’s Causeway seem unrealistically absolute. This was where there was a leeway because in flight you transcend the trajectories that conventional movement bears upon you.

Circling the suspiciously geometric terrain, she sees boulders of absolute blackness, and white shards of wave crests as they burst foam on them. Washed and blanched by the torrent, the boulders bear the weight of time, as it erodes each of our memories. You, dear turtle, you dear fish, and you, dear camel.

Gasp. I need some air.

“And strive hard in God’s cause as you ought to”

And we ought to, because justice is the larger story. And we ask for a hearing.

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