This year, I will find the time...

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...to read the Qur'an again.

So in the spirit of New Year’s resolutions I decided to reread the Qur’an, something that I have been meaning to do for a very long time now. Instead of making excuses I’m just gonna jump right into it and see how it goes.

I want to read a few translations at the same time just for the sake of good understanding and clarity. So these are the translations that I will read:

1) Yusuf Ali

2) Pickthall

3) Shakir

I've heard they are pretty good and give a rather accurate picture of what the verses mean when combined altogether. I will be reading them here most of the time cause it's just convenient. However, there is also a brilliant website that you can find here which offers many many different translations of the Qur’an and there is also some commentary that comes with it! I will also do my best to read tafsirs as I heard they are important and can give one invaluable insight into the meaning of the verses.

Also, this time I am going to read the Qur’an in the chronological order of revelation cause as far as I am aware the current order is from the longest to the shortest surah. Not sure why but apparently it's easier to keep track of things when you read the Qur'an in the chronological order.

Here you can find a table that explaines the chronological vs traditional order.

Another useful website that I found is quran4u which offers tafsirs in a pdf format. And the last one is the Qur'an Corpus.

Righty! I think I should get down to reading! I will be starting from surah 96.

There I was God...

I remember the drama I went through around a year ago when we broke up for the first time. I was trying to write my dissertation but could hardly focus on it. I was heart-broken, empty, desperate, angry and feeling thousands of emotions at once. I was looking for anything that would lead me to Islam. Anything at all. Anything that would make me understand and accept this religion that seemed to me so foreign and unforgivable. 
I couldn't sleep at night so I prayed. I prayed during the day. I prayed for guidance for myself, for his tolerance, for anything that would keep us together...


Before we parted in June I asked him to teach me how to pray the way he does. Never got round to it. So I searched internet for 'tutorials' on how to pray 'Muslim style'. I performed the ritual ablutions the way I thought was right, wrapped a scarf on my head (youtube taught me how), faced the Ka'aba and started praying with printed instructions in my hand. I knew that my prayer was very much imperfect but I don't think I have ever been more sincere in my prayers as I was at that moment. 


I didn't cry. I wept. As I was going through the motions, I was weeping. I was on my knees, in prostration begging God to hear me, to help me... I guess that wasn't enough.

One step forward, two steps back.

My friends came over for a few days and we went to Amsterdam today. Again I recalled all the places we went to, things we ate and spots we took pictures. It hurts. It gives me this sinking feeling in my stomach.
I'm a person for whom places, smells, food and events bring memories about people I spent my time with.


I MUST create new memories but today I can't help but miss him. I miss him a lot... I want him back. I was considering texting him. I know that if I saw him today, the only thing I would want is to take him in my arms and breathe in the smell of his skin. Feel safe and loved again.


Sometimes I feel like I'm falling apart but no one on the outside can tell. Tomorrow I will feel better I hope...

My religious background.

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I decided to write this post in order to dispel any kind of assumptions about my religious background, which seems to be important when having discussion about religion.

I was brought up in a Catholic family. My parents were/are not strict Catholics although it’s getting worse with their age. When I was a kid my mom read the Children’s Bible to me. I can hardly remember anything now.

Personally, I never liked going to church and would always try come up with excuses not to go. That’s why pretty much every Sunday we would have a fight about going to church which would end up with me going anyway just to appease them.

I thought confession was a ridiculous concept and went for the last time about 12 years ago. At first I felt bad about it but not anymore. While I still believed, I would get on my knees at home and ‘confess’ straight to God. Then I would lie to my parents about going to confession, oh irony!

I don’t like rituals and could never understand why I have to pray in church instead of my own house. Hypocrisy of people didn’t cease to amaze me. Turning up for Sunday mass all done up ready to compare clothing and show to the entire congregation how pious they are.

When I left the house for studies in another city, I stopped going to church altogether even though I lived just across the street of one! I would go before exams, just in case. That’s when I rememberd God. I would still pray before bed and that’s just about it.

My mom wasn’t impressed with me getting into a relationship with a Muslim + Arab man and was very disappointed with me even entertaining the idea of conversion to Islam.

What she didn’t know is that as I was researching Islam, I pretty much lost all faith in organised religion.

I don’t pray at all these days but I do think about God a lot. Whether He is out there, whether He cares at all, what’s the point of it all...