Naeem's Blog

More specifically, I’m referring to entire cause-and-effect mindset and how the entire human race has effectively embraced it as a fundamental doctrine. Science, the New Age god of the religiously disinclined, has stated that everything in this world operates on the cause-and-effect model. This isn’t limited to the laboratories, but has found its way in everything we say and do.  

Our sustenance comes not from our Creator, but from our monthly paychecks. 

Our success comes not from our adherence to our principles, but from our efforts and struggles. 

We have becomes slaves not of our Lord, but of this materialistic worldview.

And so, when we decide to stand up and struggle for the truth in the face of tyranny and oppression, we find ourselves restricted to ‘proven’ tactics and ‘established’ movements. We must determine the odds of victory and evaluate the calculus of success.  We must choose pragmatism over idealism.  We must compromise and concede for that is the way of the accomplished high priests of the material world.  Our models of success are no more founded on the anachronistic ways of the Prophets, but on the avant-garde techniques of today’s global leaders.

So it is when we finally see a breath of 'fresh' air in our political worlds, we see cause for celebration. We have inexplicably convinced ourselves that political success can only come in the form of a political party that is born from the same decrepit system that has been plaguing and ruining our societies.

The examples set forth by our beloved Prophets, we tell ourselves, are strictly limited to the spiritual realm.  Any issues we may have with our political or economic existence must be dealt with tried and tested methodologies extracted from our textbooks and institutions.  To suggest that the spiritual world can interoperate in the political is extreme folly. At least, that is what the secular materialists have taught us so effectively.

We are so affixed to the cause-and-effect model that we have lost sight of the power of our Lord. With the 'unparalleled power' of our modern minds, an ark in the middle of the desert would be foolish, escaping from a ruthless army and fleeing towards the ocean would be mad, and 313 would never, ever defeat 1000. We have convinced ourselves (or have become convinced) that the only way to victory is by our efforts, not by our principles and beliefs.

Thus, instead of sticking to our principles and looking to our religion for guidance, we rejoice when political idealists such as Obama or Pakistan’s Imran Khan tantalize us with their flowery promises of hope and change. We naively see in them a means of rectifying our broken system. Instead of realizing that never did a Prophet make change from within the broken system, we blindly pursue success with political parties.

Would a Prophet ever submit himself to the evil machinations of modern-day democracy by leading a political party?

It matters not, for those Prophetic examples set forth in our Holy Book are to be read strictly for spiritual blessings, not for any practical application.

Sadly materialism is alive and well, even in the more spiritually inclined amongst us.

While I wholeheartedly agree with Imam Zaid’s synopsis of this regrettable development, I do wish that he could have tempered his remonstration with a viable, holistic alternative.  It seems that he throws out the baby with the bath water when it comes to the role of Muslims in contemporary politics.  Are we to step back from the big stage of the political world and solely focus on reforming our selves?  Is the world of international politics and global economics so hopeless and vile that our only chance at success is to relocate into our ivory towers and focus on individual acts of worship? And if there is space for Muslim in modern politics, is it limited to the confines of the established political machinery (ie. voting, lobbying, boycotts, political parties, etc.)

I recall seeing a similar approach (of avoiding feasible solutions) when it came to our scholars’ universal denunciation of terrorism.  Most Muslims realized that killing innocents while claiming it to be an act of Islamic Jihad was haram.  But no scholar ever offered a viable model on the role of Islamic Jihad in this modern day and age.

Similarly, Muslims throughout the world realize that the process of creating an Islamic society based on the principles of Divine Revelation must not violate those very same Islamic principles.  I think it’s fair to say that most Muslims reject the approach of the Muslim Zionists.

But the question remains: How then can Muslims legitimately struggle to create a society based on the Quran and Sunnah?  How can Muslims live Islamically, not only on the personal level, but also in the socio-politico-economic realms?

Have we begun to embrace the Western approach to religion and politics as purportedly stated by Prophet Isa (as) "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's"? Is the S-word (Shariah) becoming as difficult a topic to broach as the J-word? Granted, there may be no practical role for Shariah and Jihad talk in our lives, but what exactly is the legacy we will be passing on to the next generation? Last year, in the midst of the furor over anti-Shariah legislation proposed in various states across America, many attempted to downplay the role of the Shariah as strictly a personal code of conduct.

Slippery slope, meet Muslims in the West.

To what end will we continue to emasculate and emaciate the pristine teachings of our dear Prophet (saw)?

For the record, just as I do not believe the mere abolishment of riba and the establishment of an economic system based on the Quran/Sunnah would, by itself, usher in a period of universal Islamic justice and Divine pleasure, I do not consider the struggle for the Khilafa and its re-establishment as a panacea for the countless ills plaguing the Muslims. That being said, the economic and the political struggles are equally as vital to our worldly and other-worldly success as our spiritual and social struggles.

Are we to attain spiritual nirvana before we are allowed to initiate pro-Khilafa or riba-free movements?

I say not all this in some jingoistic manner, attempting to rile up the masses with faux calls for Jihad and what not. My concern is rooted in the abdication of our collective responsibility to these foundational principles of Islam.  While it is reasonable, even expected, that not every Muslim is capable of implementing the principles of Jihad or the struggle for a Shariah-based society, at the very least we must all commit ourselves to intellectually developing as well as preserving these ideals in a manner most pleasing to our Creator.

* I realize that I am basing my conclusions on simply an excerpt from a larger book, so I may have to adjust my analysis based on a complete reading.

You all know the perfect picnic weather, right?  Bright, sunny day with a cool, gentle breeze.  Not too warm, not too cold. Colorful flowers dotting the landscape with an occasional fluffy, white cloud dotting the blue sky.

And if dark, gray clouds accompanied by a bitter, misty gust come rumbling across the sky, everyone packs up and goes scurrying for cover.

Well, not everyone.

Here in Saudi, where the scorching sun shines over the desert land for most of the year, a gloomy, dreary forecast – which most of the world despises - cheers up the locals and has them rushing out to the desert to snatch up prime picnic real estate.

They get giddy when the forecast includes light showers and a deep chill.  When this type of weather strikes (which typically will last for a day or two), many employees call in sick, kids miss school, and college campuses are empty.  Most of Riyadh can be found picnicking out in the cool, wet desert.

During my first six years or so, I used to get a real kick out of this phenomenon.  I would laugh to myself, ‘How in the world can one enjoy a picnic in such overcast, gloomy weather?’

Only after having lived in the desert climate for almost 10 years have I begun to appreciate the citywide excitement when a cold, winter shower hits the area.  You see, it’s a rare occasion, which brings with it the blessings of rain - much appreciated and celebrated in this dry, arid land.  It is only in these rare moments that Saudis are able to bundle up, start up a nice, warm campfire, and enjoy the wet, misty air with a cup of Arabic coffee.  

And the occasional drizzle on their picnic is a source of joy instead of dejection.  The picnic temporarily relocates into the vehicle, or a tent for the more adventurous intent on camping out for the entire day, and everyone goes back out when the rain stops.

The ideal location for such a picnic is anywhere water has collected, which is why you’ll find rain-induced lakes (really just glorified puddles) in the desert surrounded by jeeps and trucks, with people huddled around a fire and children playing in the sand.

Having grown up in Baltimore, I despised the cloudy, rainy weather and was overjoyed when I initially moved to sunny Saudi.  But it’s taken me almost 10 years to get over my honeymoon with the sun and now I too get “misty”-eyed (see what I did there?) when the weather turns gray and chill.

Ever since ever, I’ve been a strong advocate of old-school parenting – where the child is taught that the world does not revolve around him.  I strongly believe that a child ought to be taught to serve her elders, as a means of nipping in the bud any form of self-absorption or sense of entitlement.  And I’ve always considered it acceptable to allow a child to fall down and pick himself up on his own.

That’s why I absolutely love this article. I’m learning that parenting is a fine balance between expressing unconditional love for the child while simultaneously maintaining a level of indifference.  Crazy, right?

The child needs to learn that the parents won’t always be there to save the day. And this requires us to force ourselves to turn away when they are going through painful experiences. Obviously, it doesn’t mean that I turn my back on them when they are in dire need, but I need to give them space to fall down and get back up:

Dan Kindlon, a child psychologist and lecturer at Harvard, warns against what he calls our “discomfort with discomfort” in his book Too Much of a Good Thing: Raising Children of Character in an Indulgent Age. If kids can’t experience painful feelings, Kindlon told me when I called him not long ago, they won’t develop “psychological immunity.”

“It’s like the way our body’s immune system develops,” he explained. “You have to be exposed to pathogens, or your body won’t know how to respond to an attack. Kids also need exposure to discomfort, failure, and struggle. I know parents who call up the school to complain if their kid doesn’t get to be in the school play or make the cut for the baseball team. I know of one kid who said that he didn’t like another kid in the carpool, so instead of having their child learn to tolerate the other kid, they offered to drive him to school themselves. By the time they’re teenagers, they have no experience with hardship. Civilization is about adapting to less-than-perfect situations, yet parents often have this instantaneous reaction to unpleasantness, which is ‘I can fix this.’”

Also I really believe that so much of this helicopter parenting, where the parents hover over the child, is about parents and their inability to create a life outside of their nuclear homes.  With the extended family having gone the way of the 8-track and box-set televisions, higher divorce rates leaving parents isolated, as well as social circles becoming smaller and smaller, too many parents have nothing but their children left as social outlets:

We have less community nowadays—we’re more isolated as adults, more people are divorced—and we genuinely like spending time with our kids. We hope they’ll think of us as their best friends, which is different from parents who wanted their kids to appreciate them, but didn’t need them to be their pals. But many of us text with our kids several times a day, and would miss it if it didn’t happen. So instead of being peeved that they ask for help with the minutiae of their days, we encourage it.”

As a homeschooling parent, I embarrassingly admit that I have my hovering skills pretty much in high gear.  My wife and I are constantly aware of our children’s state of being.  We are greatly involved in their daily activities.  But the greatest difference, I believe, between my style and that of my counterparts profiled in this article is my lack of constant approval.

I try to balance my ‘shabaash’ and ‘atta boys’ with ‘you’re work is terrible’ and ‘get out of my face!’

Meanwhile, rates of anxiety and depression have also risen in tandem with self-esteem. Why is this? “Narcissists are happy when they’re younger, because they’re the center of the universe,” Twenge explains. “Their parents act like their servants, shuttling them to any activity they choose and catering to their every desire. Parents are constantly telling their children how special and talented they are. This gives them an inflated view of their specialness compared to other human beings. Instead of feeling good about themselves, they feel better than everyone else.”

The old-school father in me has always felt comfortable in setting limits for my kids.  And with kids being kids, these limits are always being tested, but it’s essential that the parent be prepared to say no and simply walk away.  Tears may be shed and emotions will be high, but the principle always overrides these temporary fits of emotion.

But the one place where I clearly feel I have fallen short is in giving my kids too many choices.  I am always waffling between giving them the ‘responsibility’ to make adult choices and forcing decisions upon them.  Am I properly balancing this act?  Not sure.

As a parent, I’m all too familiar with this. I never said to my son, “Here’s your grilled-cheese sandwich.” I’d say, “Do you want the grilled cheese or the fish sticks?” On a Saturday, I’d say, “Do you want to go to the park or the beach?” Sometimes, if my preschooler was having a meltdown over the fact that we had to go to the grocery store, instead of swooping him up and wrestling him into the car, I’d give him a choice: “Do you want to go to Trader Joe’s or Ralphs?” (Once we got to the market, it was “Do you want the vanilla yogurt or the peach?”) But after I’d set up this paradigm, we couldn’t do anything unless he had a choice. One day when I said to him, “Please put your shoes on, we’re going to Trader Joe’s,” he replied matter-of-factly: “What are my other choices?” I told him there were no other choices—we needed something from Trader Joe’s. “But it’s not fair if I don’t get to decide too!” he pleaded ingenuously. He’d come to expect unlimited choice.

When I was my son’s age, I didn’t routinely get to choose my menu, or where to go on weekends—and the friends I asked say they didn’t, either. There was some negotiation, but not a lot, and we were content with that. We didn’t expect so much choice, so it didn’t bother us not to have it until we were older, when we were ready to handle the responsibility it requires. But today, Twenge says, “we treat our kids like adults when they’re children, and we infantilize them when they’re 18 years old.”

And finally, I completely agree with this concluding statement:

“In fact, by trying so hard to provide the perfectly happy childhood, we’re just making it harder for our kids to actually grow up. Maybe we parents are the ones who have some growing up to do—and some letting go.”

One more thought. Throughout my entire reading of this lengthy piece, I was overcome by the lack of spiritual discipline that exists for so many of these families.  I’m assuming that many of them may be church-going regulars, but sadly Christianity is completely lacking on this front.  One of the pillars of Islamic teaching is the constant battlefront we must maintain against our nafs.  And when this is a foundational teaching in the home, I’m convinced that many of these issues of narcissism, depression, low self-esteem, and what not can be better addressed.

Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call him my friend. 

An acquaintance perhaps.

A colleague maybe.

Regardless, the fact remains that I’ve known him for a very long time and he’s always demonstrated terribly poor social skills in my company.  He consistently exhibits selfish behavior while rarely, if ever, willing to reciprocate my acts of generosity.  I’ve lost count of the number of times that I have taken this mooch out for a meal, allowed him company in our family outings, and provided him a place to sleep. His charming personality is such that I foolishly continue to bathe him with gifts while getting nothing in return.

I seriously doubt that he has any other friends besides me.  In fact, I know with certainty that he has no other friends, for no one else would tolerate his boorish behavior.  So while I realize I may be too accommodating of his unbecoming idiosyncrasies (to put it mildly), the poor soul really has no one else.

But still, I shouldn’t excuse his disgusting attitude.  In our younger days, he went so far as to cause several run-ins between myself and my parents.  At the time, I was too immature to realize his failings, so I embarrassingly sided with him.

And it doesn’t stop there.  His unwelcome contributions have played a significant role in countless arguments I’ve had with my wife.  She can’t stand that I continue to socialize with him, but some relationships are awkwardly inexplicable and simply impossible to get out of.

And worst of all, I’m convinced this disgraceful little runt has played a direct role in damaging my relationship with Allah (swt).  He clearly isn’t the most devout of Muslims, as he is sadly lackadaisical in his worship while uncomfortably exuberant in his worldly endeavors. Unfortunately I have found myself accompanying him on one too many of his indulgent adventures.  While I’m adamant on drawing the line when it comes to clear Haram activities, he’s always keen to push those boundaries.

He loves to eat.

He loves to laugh.

He loves to socialize.

Odd traits for someone who has no real friends.

Every time I tell myself that we must part ways, I find myself returning his phone calls and allowing him back in my circle.  No lie, but the last few Ramadans I’ve told myself that I’m going to purge myself of his distasteful company, sorta like TV or the Internet.  I semi-seriously joke with him that I’ll tie him up in the same way Allah (swt) ties up the devils. And every year, I last for the entire month without contacting him, plus an extra few weeks after, but just like the TV and the Internet, he inevitably returns to my life.

And here I find myself reading these pathetic paragraphs, wondering why in the world I continue to associate myself with this most ugly of beings.

I’m sure you’re wondering the same. 
But don’t judge me.
Seriously.

Because you may have an equally vile friend in your own life, who is more controlling, more obnoxious, more devious.

And worse yet, you may not even know about him.

He is your nafs.

I despise mine, yet I continue our dysfunctional relationship where I grant him everything he desires, while he joyfully continues to sabotage my life and after-life.

I wish I could simply un-friend him ala Facebook.  (sigh)

Recently I’ve been thinking about how completely discordant our modern lives are with the Prophetic model.  The more one tries throughout one’s day to earnestly adhere to the various acts of Sunnah, the more it becomes clear that life in the 21^st century is quite inhospitable to the ideal Islamic way of life.

Before I continue, let me be clear here.  The Shariah has incorporated, by way of Allah’s Divine Mercy, mechanisms that tolerate and accommodate, throughout all time and space, the countless extremes found in human life. So I find nothing inherently anti-Islamic about life in the fast-paced Internet age we find ourselves in today.

That being said, when I try to mimic the life of my dear Prophet (saw) in this day and age, the incongruity between the two becomes very clear.  My pace of life simply doesn’t afford me the luxury to dutifully carry out all the voluntary acts of worship.

For example, most Muslims perform their five daily prayers void of the due reverence that the Prophet and his companions displayed.  From performing the Wudu with peace and serenity to attending congregational prayers at the Masjid to praying all the Sunnah/Nafl prayers, it would take at least 30 minutes for each prayer.  Now, who can afford two hours (not including Fajr) out of their busy daily schedule *solely for their prayers*?

Furthermore, what about the various Prophetic litanies, especially after Fajr and Maghrib, which would take an additional hour each day?

Then there is the Sunnah of staying awake from Fajr to Sunrise, reciting Quran/Dhikr, and finishing with the Duha salat.

And let’s not forget waking up for Tahajjud in the last third of the night.

Oh and then there are the Sunnahs of sleeping, such as sleeping immediately after Isha and reciting Surah Mulk and Ayat al-Kursi before sleeping.

I’ve mentioned some of the daily Prophetic acts of worship - acts which, in past generations, even the most casual of Muslims vigilantly maintained.  But beginning with our parent’s generation, I’m convinced that that number has dwindled down to only the select few.

How can one possibly perform all these deeds while equally maintaining a productive role in 21^st century society?

How am I supposed to ensure my place in the first row of the masjid for every prayer? How am I supposed to stop whatever I am doing when the adhan is called, repeat after the mu’adhin, and then immediately rush to the masjid?

What of visiting close relatives and the sick, as well as helping the needy?  When do I find time for other Islamic acts such as dawah, gaining knowledge, and teaching others?

In order to loyally observe all the above, I would need to drastically alter the way I live my life. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, would have to take a back seat to my adherence to the Sunnah – family, friends, work, play, rest.

I am coming to believe that the two - the Sunnah way of life and the modern life - are unconditionally irreconcilable.  In order for one to thrive, the other must be sacrificed.

Personally speaking, my only extended moments of adherence to the Sunnah way of life have occurred when I visited Mecca or Madina, where the entire day’s schedule revolved around worshiping Allah (swt).  Only when I have withdrawn myself from the modern life have I been successful in recreating a daily schedule even remotely close to that of the Prophet's.

Obviously, such an indulgence is not available to the vast majority, so we must make (major?) adjustments to our daily lives if we wish to faithfully imitate the life of our beloved Prophet (saw).

I’m not simply referring to incorporating a handful of Sunnah acts into our daily lives.   In order to holistically actualize the Prophetic way of life, we have to adopt his worldview when designing and molding our lives.  This includes our priorities, our pace of life, our modes of entertainment, our sources of sustenance, our relations, and so on.

Where to begin? 

I’m open to suggestions.

Another distinguished topic in need of contemplation is our lacking relationship with our Lord.  No Muslim is taken aback by the news that she is a slave of Allah (swt) and is obligated to fulfill the commands of her Master.  We all learned this in our grade school years and try to remind ourselves at least 5 times a day in our scripted ritual prayers.

Yet we are constantly falling short in our duties and responsibilities towards our one and only Benevolent Sustainer.

And so it is that Allah (swt) has created this world, not only with a utilitarian purpose designed for our carnal needs and desires, but as a universe bursting with signs (ayaat) reminding us of our loving relationship with Allah (swt).

With that in mind, let us examine two simple farm animals: sheep and horses.

As we dawn upon the days of Hajj and the accompanying act of sacrificing a sheep, many Muslims around the world purchase their sheep a few weeks early.  They will feed it and care for it until that fateful day.  And in the run up to that moment, one amazing trait in this simple animal stands out.  Once the lamb realizes that you are its source of daily sustenance, that you are caring for it, that you are its provider – a special bond is created.

The lamb will gravitate towards you. 

I recently witnessed this phenomenon with my own eyes, while visiting a sheep farm here in Riyadh.  I asked the shepherd to catch a young sheep so as to allow my daughter to pet and hold it.  I expected him to chase after one of the smaller ones and snatch it up, but instead he gently strolled over to the larger group while making some strange calling noises.  Then when he began to walk back towards us, one of the smaller sheep followed him out of the flock.

Astonished by this little animal’s behavior, I asked him how he did this.  In all my previous visits, the sheep are so frightened by us that they all jolt at our mere approach. He explained that its mother was not feeding it sufficiently, so he began to manually feed the lamb himself. Naturally, he explained, it came to depend upon him and now responds to his every call.

This relationship will continue so much so, that even if he were to lead this sheep to the slaughterhouse, it would willingly follow its master. No pulling, no dragging, no coaxing. 

Complete and utter submission.

All for what?  He merely provided the sheep with some food and it's now willing to follow him to the butcher’s block!

What then can be said of our relationship with our Sustainer?  From the moment we were in our mother’s womb, we have been beautifully provided for in a manner not even remotely comparable to the shepherd and the sheep.  Countless blessings, each and every day of our lives, from a Loving Lord Who asks for obedience, which in turn He will reward in the Hereafter with an even greater, unimaginable plethora of blessings.

Ya Allah!

Are we no better than a simple lamb?  

The lamb repays its sustenance with complete submission, yet we humans repay our Ultimate Sustainer with negligence, apathy, disdain, rebellion, and even outright rejection?!  At the first sign of difficulty, the rights of our Lord are the first to go by the wayside.  Or maybe when life is smooth and everything is hunky-dory, we take all the credit while forgetting to express gratitude to the Source of all this happiness.

How fickle we humans can be!

Let us learn a lesson or two from those ‘dumb’ animals with whom we share this planet.

I won’t go into all the details as I believe the various talking points have been discussed and presented.  Those of you who are regular readers will know where I stand on the issue.  For all others, I simply sat that he shouldn’t have been targeted.  He should have had his day in court.  

I would only add that Muslims should not be so quick to throw out the baby with the bath water.  While he may have adopted abhorrent views that are clearly antithetical to our religion, his previous works that brought countless young Muslims back to the folds of Islam should never be discounted or disregarded. 

On the subject of his more fiery political views that he advocated after his release from Yemeni incarceration, Muslims must be get a backbone and be willing to acknowledge the truth regardless of who says it.  He was very forceful in stating his views against the US Empire that some Muslims in the West were simply not comfortable hearing; and so this group felt no qualm in throwing him and his entire message under the bus.

That was unfortunate because there are too few Muslim voices out there with the necessary level of stinging criticism.  If only we Muslims had such a voice – courageous enough to denounce the Pharaoh of our day and disciplined enough to adhere to the Prophetic way.

----

Despite all this mess of constitutional interpretations and legal wrangling over the targeting of an American citizen, what really upsets me is this tidbit of Obama’s unforthcoming approach to the whole process: 

“But the actual legal reasoning the Department of Justice used to authorize the strike? It's secret. Classified. Information that the public isn't permitted to read, mull over, or challenge.

Why? What justification can there be for President Obama and his lawyers to keep secret what they're asserting is a matter of sound law? This isn't a military secret. It isn't an instance of protecting CIA field assets, or shielding a domestic vulnerability to terrorism from public view. This is an analysis of the power that the Constitution and Congress' post September 11 authorization of military force gives the executive branch. This is a president exploiting official secrecy so that he can claim legal justification for his actions without having to expose his specific reasoning to scrutiny.” [Source]

So not only is the supposed evidence against Imam Awlaki being kept secret and hidden, but now even the legal reasoning and jurisprudential methodology on which the case is built upon has become a state secret?!

Wow.

What a stretch.

How much further can the government flaunt the very principles they are supposedly fighting for?  And to think, we all thought it couldn’t get any worse than Bush and Cheney.

I have no home. In fact, I have been homeless for quite some time now.

I don’t mean a place to sleep or park my car.  For that I have a house.

But I have no home.

My bloodline tells me I’m from Pakistan.

My passport says I’m from America.

My current address informs me I’m in Saudi Arabia.

America is too First World.

Pakistan is too Third World.

KSA is too Not-of-my-World.

And so, I remain overwhelmed with a deep sense of homelessness. You may counter that it doesn’t matter, for we are all strangers in this world and we are all travelers in our journey to the afterlife.  I agree.  But boy do I feel…displaced? Not exactly, for I never felt that I had that *place* to begin with.  Maybe rootless, for I remain without any roots, but I think rootless isn’t even a word. Disconnected is probably best – missing that connection to a rooted home.

I have no land that I can call my own.  I have no affinity towards any one people.  I hold no pride for any one language that I speak.  My dress, while often of the American flavor, is intermixed with Pakistani and Arab – and I feel no attachment to any of them. I equally enjoy a good ‘ol-fashioned burger, Chicken Tikka Masala, Palestinian Maqlooba and Saudi Kabsa.

And so I feel not wedded to any one land or people.

My childhood memories are embarrassingly flooded with the self-gratification of the American 80’s.  I get nostalgic when I hear any song by the Culture Club or the Knight Rider theme song. Pathetic, I know.

I was raised on prathas and pizza, and while I celebrated the Eids, I inescapably felt the seasonal joy of the Christmas season.

I speak fluent English with my wife and kids, passable Urdu with my parents, and broken Arabic with my Lord.

Living in Riyadh for nearly 10 years, I am still considered by most Saudis as my wife’s driver (especially since she sits in the back seat with the little ones).

And so at the end of the day, I feel no sense of cultural *ownership* in America, Pakistan, or Saudi Arabia.

Although I was born and raised in America, I feel spiritually alienated and am convinced that a US-based future is very dangerous for myself and my progeny.

Pakistan may be my ancestral land where my parents currently reside, yet I find it too ‘foreign’ and unwelcoming for my western sensibilities.

And while I appreciate the Islamic ambiance afforded me in Riyadh and dislike the superficiality of it all, I know that in the end, this can never be home.

So where do I go? I have no reliable link to the past of any one heritage and I have yet to find a cultural soil ideal for the seeds of my future.

When I was young, I would brazenly declare that Islam is the only identity and culture we need.  Growing up in America, I was convinced that the unifying powers of Islam mixed with the trans-cultural experience of the US would spring forth a new generation free from the cultural baggage of our forefathers and overseas brethren. I staunchly believed this new generation would be international and free from borders - without need for any one culture.

Nearly thirty years later, I now see the fault in my logic. 

Man needs roots.  Man needs a home. Man needs to be able to look up the ladder of cultural lineage and see a link to his ancestry and then look down and feel a sense of stability for his progeny.  Man needs to know himself, his past and his future.

But if after years of self-evaluation, one sees a medley of traditional mores and a mishmash of social customs and a jumble of cultural affiliations, it will inevitably cause detachment and isolation.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that just as we need a solid spiritual isnad (chain) linking us all the way to the Prophet (saw), we must also maintain our cultural isnad.

Most of us realize that the path of cutting off our religious ancestors and inventing a completely new approach to our deen has been fraught with errors and folly.  Similarly, I realize that cutting off our cultural ancestors and creating a hodge-podge of various traditions and customs will result in an inevitable feeling of suspension, discontinuity, and aloofness.

My isnad has been severed, leaving me without a land or a people; and now, having rejected all the established traditions and cultures that I have ever known, I find myself isolated and without any connections of value, like a cultural salafi, hopelessly clinging to my dubious claim of cultural 'purity'.

Oh, and don’t feel pity for me. Save it for my children.

Their mother is a confused Palestinian-American and their father is an even more confused Pakistani-American and they’re being raised in a most confusing Saudi Arabia, interspersed with yearly jaunts back to America and Pakistan.

Ouch.