Education and grades

When I was in school, my main goal from each class was to get a credit with a good grade to put on my transcript.

It was only recently that I realized how badly I had missed the point.  The purpose of an education is not a nice transcript or degree.  Nicely printed pieces of paper can be obtained through much simpler means.  The purpose of the education is improvement of the student -- her refinement and transformation so that she is better when she comes out of it than when she went into it.

It's like physical exercise -- the purpose is not to lift the weight or to cover the distance.  If it were, we'd use cranes or vehicles.  That would be much easier.  But no, the purpose is to make the person doing it stronger, healthier and more fit.  The weights and kilometres are only means to achieve that -- as are the tests, assignments and grades.

The carpet merchants

I once heard about a group of carpet merchants whose shops are all next to each other in the marketplace.  Individually, they don't keep regular hours.  As soon as one of them makes the amount he wants for the day, he'll close up shop and leave the rest of the day's business to the others.

When I first heard about them, I thought, "Don't they know how to do business?"  Then I thought, "Wow!  How altruistic!  Instead of competing, they're sharing the business."  Now, I see it differently.

They're just choosing how to spend their time.  Once they have the money that they need, they move on with the rest of their day and do other things.  Instead of living to make money, these merchants making money to live.

Questioning business as usual

It isn't news to anyone that there's something wrong with our economy.  And I'm not just talking about the crash or the bailouts either.

In my high school economics class we learned that the goal of an economic system is to efficiently use and equitably distribute resources in a society.  Somewhere, it seems like we've veered off course.

Is it an efficient use of resources to cut down trees, burn fossil fuels, pollute our land, air and water to make cups, cartons and cameras that will only be used once and then thrown into landfills?  Is it equitable that executives receive million dollar bonuses as they lay off hundreds of workers?  Does it make sense that in a time and place of so much natural, material and technological wealth, food banks are serving record numbers of people?

It seems like business as usual isn't working for us anymore.

In her book, True Wealth (previously published as Plenitude), Juliet Schor suggests an alternative.  In a nutshell, she suggests that we work less, buy less, create more and connect more.  If people could work fewer hours, we could reduce unemployment by sharing the work amongst more people.  The lower income associated with shorter hours could also restrict consumption, thereby saving natural resources.  Fewer hours at work also means more hours of leisure, which people could use to create more on their own (through cooking, sewing, DIY projects, etc.).  Finally, more free time means more time to connect with other people and build community.

Sounds like a pretty good idea to me.

Thanking people

There's a hadith that says whomsoever does not thank people, has not thanked God.  And there's a verse in the Qur'an that says "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

If you look at the verse on it's own, the connection between being thankful and getting more is not that obvious.  Of course we believe that it's true, but how being thankful can get us more is not clear.  We believe in the connection as an act of faith.

The hadith, however, gives a clue to at least one mechanism through which being thankful can get us more.  People are far more inclined to give to those who appreciate their efforts than to those who don't.  So, by thanking people, we endear ourselves to them so that they will be inclined to give us more.  It's one way that God gives us more if we are thankful.

I need you to need me

I need you to need me
So I can know
I have a place in your life
A space in your life
Reserved
For me

The gift economy

There's a gift economy and a market economy.

In the gift economy, goods and services are given without condition of reciprocation.  This is what you see in families and friendships.  Parents do not expect payment for the food they serve their children at the dinner table.  Friends don't charge a fee for advice or company.  Goods and services are given and given and given.  They may be returned or they may not.

On a balance sheet of tangibles there may not be a profit.  But on both sides of the transaction, invaluable intangibles grow with compound interest.

Brain exercise

I mentioned to my friend today that I've found that writing these daily posts has been really beneficial for me.  She asked me why.  I told her it's helped me to know myself better -- to be able to see the patterns and recurring themes in my daily thoughts.

But just this evening, as I struggled to write my daily post while sitting in front of the television, and then struggled again in another room where I could still hear the television in the background, and then finally moved to another room and closed the door so I can hear myself think, I've found another reason.  Writing every day forces me to sit and think and concentrate and stop listening to the noise and stop reading yet another entertaining book or article.  It forces me to think and hear my own thoughts.  And record them.  And arrange them.  And expand on them.  And link them together.  And evaluate them.  So that I can write something and post it.

With so much to learn and read and so many distractions and options for entertainment, it's easy to lose yourself in this feast of information -- to just take in more and more and more.  But just as it's not healthy to simply eat and never exercise, I don't think it's healthy to simply absorb external input into the brain and leave it sitting there.  The brain needs its exercise too.

Even a smile is charity

Our Girl Guide and Brownie unit was selling cookies today in front of the Metro at Liberty Village.  We had our cartons of cookies stacked in a little display near the store's entrance.  The girls were carrying a box in each hand (later reduced to only one box carried with both hands because too many boxes were getting dropped), eager to display their wares and sell them to interested customers.  Each time anyone came approached the door, the girls would ask, in the sweetest way they could, and often in unison, "Would you like to buy some Girl Guide cookies?"

Lots of people did.  In fact, we completely ran out of cookies about 10 minutes before the girls were getting picked up by their parents.  It was great.

But of course, not everyone bought cookies.  Lots of people walked right past us.  Some were busy talking on their phones.  Some completely ignored us.

And some would say "No, thank you." or "Sorry, I've already bought a bunch of cookies from my (friend/niece/grand daughter/etc.)" or "No, thanks, but good luck on the campaign!" and they would smile.

We appreciated that.

It also made a difference.

Feeding hungry hearts

When we started Project Downtown, we learned that it's not just about feeding hungry stomachs, but also hungry hearts.  So, when we go out and deliver our food packages, we try to stop and talk to the people we meet, ask them how they're doing and listen to them.  It's our small attempt to alleviate hunger in the heart as well as the stomach.

Today, I was reminded again of how the benefits of giving don't fall solely upon the recipient.

As we were walking back to the car after delivering our packages, we passed a group of the guys opening their packages and eating the sandwiches we made.  They smiled and thanked us and wished us a good evening and a good weekend.  We wished them the same.  My heart swelled.

After Project Downtown, a few of us had dinner together and spent the rest of the evening chatting and hanging out.  I love to spend an evening spent chatting and hanging out with friends.  It just fills me up.  And because we do Project Downtown every week, we get to hang out every week as well.  And I realized that Project Downtown also feeds my own hungry heart.

Ecological responsibility

I was invited to gave a talk on ecological responsibility today at the Multifaith Centre at U of T as part of their Faiths Engaging the World Lunch Series.  When I was preparing for the talk, I came across the verse in the Qur’an that describes the slaves of the Most Merciful.

In Surah Furqan, chapter 25, verse 63, it says: 

wa ‘ibaadurahmani lladhina yamshuna ‘ala al ardi hawnan

And the slaves of the Most Merciful are those who walk on the earth easily (gently, with dignity but without arrogance)

What a beautiful verse to describe ecological responsibility; walking on the earth gently, easily, with humility (which are all meanings that can be found in the word hawn).  It’s treading lightly on the earth, with humility.

For a truly humble servant could never destroy, pollute and waste the gifts of his Master.

Useful - not used

A good leader makes people feel useful, without making them feel used.

Technological burdens

A few days ago, I went out for a walk with my friend.  Because of the outage in the Blackberry network, she left her phone at home.

As we walked and talked and then sought shelter from the rain, she remarked how free she felt without her Blackberry.  She had no idea what sort of messages she missed.  Due to the outage, she couldn't know and didn't have to know and was quite content not knowing.

I wonder how many technological innovations become burdensome to their owners like this.

Initially conceived as a way to make lives easier, to enable us to do what we couldn't do before, they somehow make our lives more difficult and stressful.  For the ability to do something is often quickly followed with the expectation to do it.  If you don't have a smart phone, you can't read and answer email anytime from anywhere.  But if you do have one, not only can you read and answer email from wherever you are, but you are now expected to.  Even if that expectation comes only from yourself, it's something else that draws your attention, something else on your mental to do list, another distraction.

Is it worth it?  I don't know.

But for the time being, I'm not going to try to find out.

Exclusion

There is a hadith that says, if three people are together, two of them should not whisper to each other in the presence of the third because it would sadden him.

I always thought that third person would be hurt because he would think that the other two were whispering about him.

I realized recently that it's not just that.   Even if he knows exactly what the other two are talking about, the third person could be hurt simply because he is being excluded.  What he sees is that for some reason, he is not good enough to be included with the other two.  Whether the whisperers are excluding the third person intentionally or they are just mindlessly exchanging information that they didn't think the third person was interested in, the effect is the same.

As social creatures, exclusion creates in us a very distinct kind of pain.  Unfortunately, even though it's felt very acutely, the social pain of exclusion can be inflicted completely unintentionally -- with the perpetrators oblivious to the hurt of their victim.  Since victims don't always share their pain with those who have inflicted it, the perpetrators often remain oblivious, which leaves them prone to hurting people again in a similar way.

May we all be guided and protected from hurting people this way and from being hurt by them.

Asking for help

It's hard to ask for help.

When I was writing my thesis, I struggled alone for months -- maybe even a year or more -- afraid to ask for help.  I didn't think anyone could help me.  I didn't want to burden anyone with my problems.  I was afraid of what people would think of me if I came to them with such a terrible piece of work.  I was afraid they would think I was incompetent. 

Fortunately, with help from friends and family (who came to help me before I was able to ask), I learned to ask for help.  This was one of the biggest lessons I took from graduate school.   It was instrumental to me finally being able to finish and graduate.

Now, while I'm taking time off and I'm not working or studying, I get to see asking for help from another perspective.

Without work or school, it's easy to feel lost, to feel out of place, to not have a place to belong.  I think the main reason I've been spared much of that is that people ask me for help.

It's little things, like picking up groceries, editing an essay, helping my neighbour bake muffins, or taking my friend's child to the doctor.  It takes just a few minutes here, maybe a couple of hours there.  None of the tasks are difficult or extraordinary, but the pleasure and satisfaction I get from first being asked and then being able to do something are tremendous.   I'm honoured.  I feel like I belong somewhere.  I feel like I matter and that I make a difference -- however small it may be.

It's like those puzzle pieces.  When we struggle alone, we're like separate pieces lying scattered on the table.  When we ask and give help, we're putting pieces together.  We're giving each other a place to fit.

Obstacles on the road

Sometimes, the road of life is smooth and easy.

Sometimes, it get's a little bit rocky and uncomfortable.  The road isn't too bad, but it's not good either.  It's certainly not bad enough to consider turning around, retracing your steps and finding a better road.  So you stay on it telling yourself that the road could get better any time now.  You never know what's up ahead.  You chug along.

Then sometimes, the road becomes almost impassable.  Life gets really, really hard. 

Some obstacles on the road give you no choice but to stop.  And think.  What is this road?  Where is it going?  How badly do I want to get there?  Is this the only road that I can take?  Could I try another path?  Would I prefer to go somewhere else?

As frustrating as they are, the obstacles on the road -- especially the really big ones -- give us an opportunity to think, to regroup and to question our goals and assumptions.  Then we can strengthen our resolve to continue on this path or to try another one.

What do you want to do?

Seems like a simple question, doesn't it?

I remember a friend asking me this close to ten years ago.   He had asked me what I wanted to do after graduating and I mentioned something along the lines of whatever would make my family happy.

I actually didn't see it as my own choice to make.  I saw my life as an optimization problem where my task was to do whatever would be most pleasing to people around me.   I was quite content with that.

My friend wasn't.

He tried to ask me what I wanted to do.   I told him it doesn't matter what I wanted to do and so I never really put much thought into it.  I didn't know what I wanted to do and I wasn't too keen on figuring it out.  I honestly didn't think that what I wanted was important.  My plan was to do whatever I needed to do, to do my duty and do what was needed of me.

My, how things have changed...

Now, I find myself devoting much of my time trying to figure out the answer to that question that I didn't even think was worth answering.  What do I want to do?

If I've learned anything in the past few years, it's that I don't want to do what I don't want to do.  It's just too hard.  And painful.  And frustrating.  And a waste of my time and effort.  A waste of my life.

So, while I have the luxury and the opportunity to do it, I'm going to spend some time trying to figure out some answers.  Because now, I want to do what I want to do.

Salmon run

We watched the salmon run today at Etienne Brule Park.   It was another beautiful day in this unusually warm Thanksgiving long weekend.  Lots of people were out in the park.   Lots of people were watching the salmon.

We cheered each time one of the fish struggled frantically to get up the falls.  And we sighed in sympathy and disappointment each time one of them didn't make it up.  We didn't actually see any of them make it up today.  But from the cheering we heard when we were walking on the path on the other side of the falls, we're pretty sure that one of them did.

Regardless of whether they made it, their struggle was moving to watch.  As silly as it seemed, we couldn't help but to cheer them on.  We could see how hard they were swishing their tails to push themselves up the waterfall.  And we could see them trying again and again each time the water pushed them back down.

I don't think these fish have any idea that we were watching or cheering them on.  They were just doing what they had to do.  And in doing that, and in struggling and not giving up, they impacted people in ways they don't even know.

Things that matter

I started writing on this blog every day for two weeks before really telling anyone about it.  I don't know why, but I was scared. 

It's easy to do things that don't matter -- that have little to no potential impact.  If I sew something just for fun, talk to someone about the weather or write something that almost no one is going to read, there's no pressure.  It doesn't really matter.  Whether I do it well or not, it hardly makes a difference.  But that's just the problem, isn't it?  It doesn't matter.  Why do things that don't matter?

Answer: Fear.

When you do things that matter, there's a chance that you'll do something wrong or something people don't like.  There may be negative consequences.  But that's just the risk you'll have to take. 

Because there may be positive consequences as well. 

But you'll only know if you do things that matter.

Thankfulness

There is a verse in the Qur'an that can be translated as: "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

It's a guarantee.

So much so, that when people complained to some scholars about their straitened circumstances, these scholars would ask them to reflect on the quality of their thankfulness.

Because the verse says, "If you are thankful, I will surely give you more." (14:7).

Three hearts

Every Friday afternoon, my friends and I do Project Downtown.  We put together packages of food and snacks - lately it's been a hot dog or hamburger, a granola bar or two, a cheese bun and/or a muffin, an orange, a banana and juice - and distribute them to people hanging around City Hall who look like they would appreciate the food. 

We learned about Project Downtown four years ago, when a student from the US came to Toronto and introduced it to us.  One of the things he told us has really stuck with me.

Recently, I realized that it's something that applies to any good work or act of kindness done to benefit another person.

He said that when we go out and do Project Downtown, our actions touch three hearts.  One, we touch the heart of the recipient.  Two, we touch the heart of the person who sees us do what we do.  And three, we touch our own hearts.

How are you? Really?

How often do you say 'How are you?' out of habit?  How many times has someone asked you the question without waiting for the answer?  How do you answer when you're not actually fine or good or great or okay?

Can we ask the question differently?  Should we ask How are you feeling? How are you, really? How are you on a scale of one to ten?

It's an important question.  We need to ask it.  We need to answer it.  We need to hear the answer.  We need to have our answer heard.

Seventy excuses

One of the great early Muslims, Hamdun al-Qassar, said, “If a friend among your friends errs, make seventy excuses for them.  If your hearts are unable to do this, then know that the shortcoming is in your own selves.”

I use this one a lot.

I love working in the community where the efforts of a group of people combine to create something greater than the sum of its parts.  But, as in any enterprise involving people, mistakes will be made.  The ball will be dropped (sometimes by me, which is another reason why I use it a lot).  And often, things will not go exactly as planned. 

When this happens, rather than attribute the error to malice, carelessness and disrespect, we make excuses for our friend.  We don't even need to make seventy.  I find once I get to two or three, I start feeling better already. 

I've always thought of this tradition as a good way of maintaining social relations.  And it is.  It keeps us from planting seeds of ill will against each other.  But besides that, it also helps us maintain a good emotional state within ourselves.  For as much as the way we see the world might affect how we treat other people, it really affects ourselves the most.

In the eye of the beholder

True beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  That was the topic in our Toastmasters table topics competition today.  Thankfully, I didn't participate.  I can only imagine what nonsense I would have blabbered on about if I was tasked with talking about this for 1-2 minutes, impromptu.   As a member of the audience, though, I had the benefit of a whole day to think about it.

I thought of how much of what we see is as much a reflection of our selves as it is of what we're looking at.  Sheikh Mukhtar Maghraoui talks about this with respect to what we see with our hearts.  Just as the eyes are organs of perception, so is the heart.  The heart can sense and be moved by beauty in the world around it.

But not all hearts see equally well.  Hearts can become clouded by evil thoughts and actions.  Such hearts may no longer be able to see beauty or they may see the beautiful as ugly.  So we struggle to purify our hearts with good thoughts and good actions.  In the hopes that we can see clearly again.  In the hopes that we can see and be moved by beauty.

Upside down and backwards

I was reading Charles le Gai Eaton's book, King of the Castle today.  In it, he makes a very interesting point about religion and our modern world.  Our modern western society is unique in that it dismisses or puts in the periphery, what all other societies before it had made central in their lives -- namely a belief in the Divine and in an existence beyond our material world.

These beliefs came and still come in many forms.  But they were always there.  Somehow, all humans before us believed in a power beyond themselves.  They saw our world as part of something bigger.

Now, many people view such beliefs as backwards and incompatible with rational thought.  So what they're saying is that our ancestors in humanity -- all of them, for millenia -- have been completely wrong and it is only now, in the past century or so, that we got it right.

Now that is something have a hard time believing.

The joys of doing

There is so much at our fingertips.  We can read about anything, talk to anyone, buy anything we need from anywhere in the world without even getting out of bed.  It's all so convenient.

Just like anything else, convenience also has a cost.  I'm not referring to cost in terms of dollars and cents.  I mean cost in terms of what we've lost or what we give up in exchange for convenience.  These costs include loss of skills, self-reliance and the sheer joy of doing.

But they're not really lost.  They're just available through alternative options.

The great thing with conveniences it that they're optional.  We don't have to do things the easy way.  We can cook instead of eat out, sew something instead of buy it, do something ourselves instead of paying someone else to do it.  Along with the final product of a meal to eat or an item to use or something that's been fixed, doing things with our own two hands gives us experience, improved skills and satisfaction that money can't buy.

When dreams meet reality

I pulled up an old email a while back.  It was written four years ago.  I wrote it to one of the leaders in  my community, telling him about some of the things I hope to work on and achieve, so that he could assign me tasks accordingly.  Looking at what I wrote, I realize how much things have changed -- or how much I have changed.

It's not that I'm now opposed to the goals and plans I wrote about.  No.  I still believe that these are good things to do.  But what I see in that email was a tremendous amount of hope and optimism that I have since lost.  Reading that email, I'm almost astounded by the naivete of this girl who had and expressed these dreams just a few years back.  It's sad.  I couldn't imagine writing the same thing now -- or even anything close to it.

Maybe that's just how things go.  We have dreams, we try to implement them and when they encounter reality, they get changed, or lost, or broken, or crushed.  Then what are we supposed to do?  Do we find our dreams again, put them back together and try again?  Just the thought of doing that puts a knot in my chest.  Or do we stop dreaming -- put these dreams back on the shelf where they will be safe from the hazards of reality and where they will remain as mere dreams?  No.  I can't do that.  What is the point of the day to day struggle if there is nothing to strive for?   No, I won't shelve my dreams.

No, I'm going to find those dreams again.  I'm going to put them back together and nourish them back to health and try to bring them to reality again.  The alternative is just unacceptable.