and then our exile

a beautiful moment is the crossing of highway 21, driving home, as the blue-black of night reaches sudden to envelop as the sounds of city lights drop behind. because the city is made of such noise, such cacophony, which does not permit release.

friday evening, thought: "it is too early in the year to experience burnout." and thus, for the first time in nearly seven years, i have entered a weekend mentality. therapy, then, from the moon full and low, hoarfrost shining white, chamomile tea, editing old poetry, and the way usman comes rushing to see me whenever i return home.

there is only one decision we are asked to make and remake, throughout the days of our lives. "on all the mount moriahs of the world..." this is reductionism, this is extremism, it is the task of those who believe: to wade through the grey. it also (unfortunately) calls for more than sterile knowledge, because existence itself is an act. the next step, after all this preamble? would, or should, or could that i would, is lost.

the i'raab of "subhanAllah".

went to the volunteer meeting for iWeek but forgot what i signed up for, which is what i need to find out tomorrow morning, right before farooq and i turn the relig322 classroom into a raging hall of debate and accusation. at any rate, there are many terribly interesting things going on during this year's international week, and you should go to some of them. download program guide here.