The Good: You've finally made it...your on Oprah's show

hmmm I dont think you got where I was going with this, I just want you to read the body languages in the photo and make your own conclusions...but for now I'll side with Northern...the writer is the light of tomorrow and the girls are the dark yesterday

Originally posted by David_Letterman: quote:Originally posted by BlueEpocha: quote: Originally posted by David_Letterman: Yasmin Allas Dutch writer such an interesting concept for a photo, what is it screaming out...n I like how she is a dutch writer instead of a somali-dutch writer what is it screaming out?????????????????? There is just soo much going on in this photo that an essay can be written on it...I'll give you a few pointers...look at how the writers arm is placed, look at the girl with her finger to her mouth, look at the angle of the writers' face and eyes, the girl on the right side looking at her, the book open infornt of her, the choice of clothing....to me they all point to a yesterday and tomorrow as the writer gazes on the unknown keeping herself sheltered (arms crossed)...yeah really an essay...now I'm just wondering what was going through her mind

Our only issue is that we are quick to adapt...I think that makes us very flexible...good thing bad thing I don't know...but I fully embrace it and use it to my advantage, throw routine out the window and wlc versatility

In The Midst Of Sliding Doors =============================

Hayam...I'm glad you enjoyed it J.Lee I've been wondering about your writing and when we would be bestowed with it again...I hope its soon

Salaam Bob Inshallah for your hopes, and ameen for your prayers...don't be gone too long, I know artists have to do their existing from the lime light to be missed...you'll be missed...but I know you'll come back stronger, so I'll take comfort in that...stay safe and grow with each word...inshallah we'll see you soon...

Originally posted by David_Letterman: Yasmin Allas Dutch writer such an interesting concept for a photo, what is it screaming out...n I like how she is a dutch writer instead of a somali-dutch writer

Originally posted by WIIL_SHAYDAANKA: there are bad people in every community every community from turks to morrocans to whatever are suffering from these types of setbacks why do somalis always pretend like their the only ones I think the problem is of a denial issue... denial that a problem exists...I agree with Seeker >>>>TUNE IN TO YOUR WORLD<<<<<<

They actually do wear a uniform, but I don't know if its for important times like say writing an exam or GRADUATING...when I went they were writing their final exams and sure enough they were wearing white uniforms, this was back in 05 though....and the building the ceremony is being held in was still in bare bricks...its nice to see the finished product...the graduates and the building

I received this today in my e-mail from a friend and was completely lost in it that I had to share because it brought warmth enlaced with a shiver and I hope you immerse yourself in the words and let it enrage the flame within you for the All Knower, the Most Merciful, and the Giver who created what we are and what we stand for. In the time before I had any real memories to keep; its rhythm lulled me within warm layers of comfort. Later, my soul would be hushed in quiet awe; when I heard melodious voices of various degrees competing to perfect its recitation. Within those hazy recollections, I can pick out strands of soulful expressions blaring from the tapes my mother would play during those busy mornings when I would keep my eyes shut a moment longer to let its beauty soak into my soul. An eternal memory etched into my consciousness displays my mother; sitting on her favorite spot on the couch, reciting in her usual matronly cadence, heavy with a touch of softness; methodical with no hint of haste. She regularly welcomes the first sun rays with her own host of Angels. During those times when I couldn't fully discern the lines between reality and imagination; and everything was touched by sparkles of magic and carried on wings of fantasy; I remember still being impacted. Somehow every time I heard what were then incomprehensible verses and words, all the noises around me would mute and inside I would be perfectly still, trying to listen, to discern. The potency of those moments nestled within my budding sensibility stayed with me, ingraining my first and most fundamental lesson in poetry: For a collection of words to qualify the elite circle of what is deemed poetic; it must move not mountains but souls (and all dusty matter crumbles in its wake). A timeless eternity later and I am steeped in its verses; every year unfolding more layers of meaning that sometimes shatters the comfortable boundaries I have foolishly drawn for my mind. My journey through its pages is a living testament to the highs and lows of my own spiritual state. Those few precious moments, when every word reverberates through my being; when I feel adored in its light; gently chastised by the beauty of its compassion; those indescribable moments when my soul is called from a far distance to pay attention to all that I am supposed to remember but apt to forget. The cyclical nature of my own seasons keep me going back; to re-learn the fundamental whys of my existence; to retrace the path of mankind; our downfall and rise; our foolishness and arrogance. I keep going back to seek causes and consequences; to grasp responsibility and meaning. I go back to find an imprint of His signs when my vision fails to discern beauty. When the eloquence around me is muted; I turn to its pages for inspiration. At times the walls of this world threaten to cage me and I feel too large for my surroundings; I then go trekking the unseen uncovering timeless archetypes drawn and redrawn implanting imperceptible seeds of truth pregnant with wisdom deep into my soul. Historic wars and epochs, transcendent personalities embodying grace; exhortations and remembrances; Angels and Jinns; Hell and Heaven; Light and Darkness; Twin souls of sleep and death; I trail the outer limits of our space and time and come back with a shifted perspective, the largess of the universe overwhelms me once more. Other times I am all a raging storm of conflict, fighting the verses with bitter tears, questioning why? Why the suffering, the inanity of this life when death beckons in every direction? My fingers strike lightning across the pages and I rage, raining tears of pent up frustrations, finding those bookmarks of comfort and losing my self over and over again; until I am spent. When the billows of darkness recede, I find myself alone and realize how foolish I looked fighting my own soul. From a young age I was taught the proper rules of its recitation, which I keep breaking and forgetting, remembering and neglecting; and I can't quite recall the time when I didn't understand at least the surface meaning of the words. Yet, every time I peel a layer, I am faced with the certainty of how little I really know; and the profound gulf that exists between my Creator and I. I implore Him by all the Names He has taught me; O' Compassionate One , ya Merciful, O' Knower of All Subtleties, Forgiving, Wise, My ultimate Protector, O' Ever Living, Source of All Goodness, Perfection, O' Guiding Light, Originator of all that came into existence, O' source of peace… I appeal to Him through all the rote prayers that were drilled into me as a young child; which I repeated at first dutifully, at times resentfully, hurriedly, sadly, absently, and pushed until one day something broke within me; and words, prayers, actions melded together into one large heart rending inarticulate space keeping me prostrated by the weight of all that I should be grateful and penitent for. That place where the illusion of "I" is emptied and I am left begging, pleading, reaching "Ya Salaam, Ya Salaam, Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem"…and nothing matters…nothing matters…nothing matters, except Him. And at times I still forget. So when Ramadhan descends yet again and the doors that are closed are opened (momentarily) and those that are open are closed (momentarily); the weight of those verses take a hold of my soul and with crystal clarity everything comes back again; and I remember again to never take this window for granted. Somehow this window encompasses my whole life. As I hold these reverent pages in my trembling hands; time stops; the world is on mute and my soul is once again suspended in the audience of her Fashioner in that place where silence is complete and emptiness engulfs everything. And yet again, I am left standing, bare, alone with the piercing realization that I have run out of excuses and my time is finally up. musings of ms.maliha @

Thank you all I appreciate the support...please don't stop fighting for him and remember to show her his worth...we are capable of so so so much but it has to start with lending each other a listening ear and an understanding hand. Again thank you.

I see his clear tear drop on dirt The dirt she spat on a second ago Whimpering he falls unable to get up The strength he stood with taken away He is left with rubble he can’t even use It was she that drained his beauty, his life She left him crouching begging after her He is her father, her brother, her son But that didn’t stop her from drawing the lines And with each stroke his flesh was forever severed The wounds gush open with each word she utters Pretending to help his children she mutilates them But he keeps going back to the illusions she has built And so she continues eating deep in his flesh Acting as the parasite taking his sustenance Because to her he is nothing but dirt The dirt she spat on a second ago As she took him out of history And began writing it for him. Tell me, what are you worth? Because to me you are The cradle Of life Hope Love Tell me What are you worth? Because to me you are The cradle of life, hope, and love You are the king of Sukur That hails from the Azania lands With a grace of golden sand You leave your trace to move me Standing with poise to allure me Gazing at you I know You are my father, my brother, my son What I have known and will know How can she take your might When you cultivate with your hands It’s your depth that makes her sour With green eyes she stands out there Wanting you in every possible way that exists How can she not want you You give a demure of a gentle power Your nature a smooth velvety chocolate And you exude with every word you speak The richness you offer with your heart Is what has paved her way to carve you Don’t you know you mesmerize her In that rhythmic way you move about Oh how I smile at the thought Extending my hand to who you are to me I am your daughter, your sister, your mother You give me splendor with in Gazing at you I know Coming from where I’m from I have the strength to raise my hand And show her your worth The worth She could never Touch

Northern...those were the days even though for some those days are not over yet. What I know is these are the boys that will be running the neighbourhood in a few years, I just pray that they will do something positive with their lives. Tyjwania...YUM!! and can I just say you've got quite a picture there, I mean such a gorgeous laugh Urban...thanks buddy

Your part of the problem whether you choose to see it or not. I say whoa because that was one loaded statement, and the sad part is your making yourself look like an outsider when your the root of it all...this is where I sign off

Originally posted by Khalaf: (1) I dont think we should waste energy in helping them. My sister every human being is born with an intellect….u know right from wrong…we are not like the animals who submit to their whims. (2) there is no education or amount of dawa u can give that will help. (3) Only Allah changes ppl…. the imam at my masjid said dont try to change old ppl that includes anyone after puberty they already have their minds set….but start with the kids. (1)I agree we are born with a sense of right and wrong BUT PEOPLE MAKE MISTAKES and for you to say we shouldn’t waste energy in helping shows me that you are indeed judging. How do you know their situation, how do you know maybe all they need is someone that gives them a word, or that they really want to get out of the situation but there is no one they can turn to that is outside of their circumstances? You are judging because you’re taking their situation face value and using that against them. AND intellect is given to all of us BUT without knowledge you can’t use your intellect, education increases knowledge and for that I don’t see it as a waste of energy. (2)How do you know? What do you make of the people that have done what would be considered under the religion the WORST and came back from it by becoming the best Muslims? How do you know if you haven’t tried reaching out? You might think your words or efforts are futile but you would be surprised the magnitude a simple word or a simple gesture can have on a person. But it has to be a constant reaching out until you know you have exhausted your attempts because it is our responsibility to try our best and leave the rest to Allah as he is the only one that can ultimately guide. (3)Allah IS the all powerful, he is the ONLY ONE that can ultimately change someone and forgive them through his mercy, but doesn’t Allah expect us to help each other and offer a word of kindness? No one said change the person but rather, as your responsibility, remind them what they are doing is wrong without judgment or a sense of superiority on your part because of the situation they are in. I want to remind you that even the children’s destiny is made by Allah; no one deserves any more or less dawa than anyone else. As for your comment of the somali people as the problem can I just say WHOA

Ramadan Karim to you too, I can't belive its next week inshallah...and Ameen...

This indeed is random captured...but then again what isn't random...you just have to see a meaning in a moment...what do you see?

Moving Oreo ============

Originally posted by Khalaf: I didnt know somali families were like kufar families-what the sister described. Fact is the problem of drinking and substance abuse is a blaring reality in the Somali community of the diaspora, and that statement just makes the problem even that much bigger. Instead of educating our fellow brothers and sisters and helping them when they find themselves in those situations we choose to shun them. We have a beautiful deen that can accept people at their worst with repentance, and yet we judge. Don't you realize that your making it okay for them by ignoring the problem and outcasting them? I'm not referring to you personally, this goes for all of us who look the other way instead of facing the problem head on. But I want you to know that this exists, and your statement doesn't help.

Originally posted by Khalaf: I come from family/community where the wildest thing they ever do is go see Ice Age movie. Haraam-Kufar!, no its ok its kids movie , thats why I thought she would be more like a black/white chick then somali. what world do u live in? Is this type of shit normal BlueEpocha among somalis? [/QB] OMG!!! you just said SHIT...tsk tsk tsk...you potty mouth you...I won't even bother validating your response because that would be starting a vicious cycle that I frankly don't want to stoop to. So continue living in your utopia and I wish all you the best.

Originally posted by me: The world is still the same, nothing has changed, nothing will ever change. We humans are entertaining ourselves thats all. So you're saying we have reached the end of history, that everything that was there to discover for a better living has been discovered, and alternatives have been exhausted? I think in 5 years things will change dramatically...when it comes to socially, environmentally, and just the rate of time...boy is time going by fast...I think this is what it was meant a year will feel like a month a month like a week and a week like a day and a day like an hour....SCARY I tell you...THE END IS UP ON US....what are we doing about it...WHAT AM I DOING ABOUT IT...

Originally posted by Tyjwania: Gays and weed puffers don't just up and appear overnight. She knew it was coming, and when it finally did come, she's not only here asking a bunch of total strangers what to do, but also is saying she LOVES him! For crying out loud lady, if she even had ONE screw that wasn't loose up there, she could've figured it out what to do and would have done it long ago. I feel sorry for the kids tho, I really am. They're probably too young to understand, but the mom isn't. She just can't invite a snake in and ask later why he bit her. Sheeesh! [/QB] Okay, first off I think she wanted to say guy unless we are all gays. Secondly mashallah you seem like a strong woman, take no bullshit kinda gal, unfortunately that's not the case for every woman. Why are you judging her, your not in her situation, you don't know what happened, and you can't say for certain she knew it was coming. Maybe these bunch of total strangers are the only people she can ask at the moment.

Originally posted by Castro: Blue, calm down atheer. This is the question she asked: quote: Originally posted by najma2000: please i need your help so do you gays think he will came back fore us or not Do you really think anyone could answer that question for her? In a poll no less? Come on atheer. She (if it's really a she) made this all into a circus and the cruel responses she received are quite proportional to her question. In the highly unlikely event that this scenario depicts actual people and events, I regret and apologize for my harsh words. Castro, I know the e-world has become full of dishonesty and a fantasy for some but that doesn't mean there are no real people with real problems seeking real help out there. Clearly you can see that she just managed to express what she is feeling, thus could it be by asking such a question she is pleading for help or seeking reassurance. The Least we can do is give benefit of doubt. p.s. nice small font how bout putting that to the forefront?

This is a somali woman? That cant be possible! [Confused] What do you mean?!?!? What world do you live in is what I would like to know