Ramadan Day 17

War. It’s happening in too many places, and it’s the innocent civilians who always suffer most.

Going to iftars more than an hour away both Friday and Saturday meant I soaked up more of the Ramadan spirit and community than I might have otherwise, but it also meant less time to write, so I’m catching up on my entries now. I’m encouraging myself to post every day of Ramadan, not out of external pressure but out of genuine curiosity about what happens when I commit to a practice and simply let it unfold.

I started my morning with an incredibly gentle yoga practice as part of the Rahma Ramadan Circle, led by a friend. It was exactly what I needed to ease into the day, feeling a little more at home in my body.

My son has had a phone ban for the past week, and it has been quite a struggle at home. We definitely absorb each other’s energies, and when he doesn’t get what he wants, namely the screen, the friction ripples through the whole house. Without his phone, he ends up restless and pestering, cycling through layers of boredom. Honestly, it wears on me, too. Our biggest battle at home is about screens, and some days it feels like an unsolvable problem. Raising a neurodivergent kid comes with its challenges alongside many genuine blessings, and I keep coming back to the reminder that I am doing the best I can, and the hugs help me keep going.

I took a slow walk around my neighborhood to ground myself and notice the small things. The wispy magenta petals of a flowering bush, tissue-paper thin and trembling in the breeze, pulled me momentarily out of my own head and out of the world’s noise.

Throughout the day, my mind kept drifting to countries far from here, places I’ve actually lived in, and where I came to know some of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met. And then I scroll and see something that makes my brain short-circuit, like Iranians in the Western diaspora holding rallies to praise Netanyahu for bombing their homeland. I genuinely don’t know how to hold that. Plus a lot of other cognitive dissonance of how people operate and perceive the world. The gap between lived experience and what gets amplified in media and politics can make it feel like we are all inhabiting completely different realities.

In the afternoon, I was feeling pulled toward the couch but also toward community, so I gave myself a gentle push and made the long drive to the East Bay. I’m glad I did. I ended up at a church in Berkeley, which is actually a fairly common arrangement in the U.S. for non-mainstream Muslims, including Sufis, who sometimes rent temporary spaces from churches because they tend to be more accommodating than mosques for those who want to gather without the cultural gatekeeping and restrictions that can come with more traditional spaces.

There was something comforting about breaking fast and praying alongside Muslims who hold more expansive views of the tradition. I hesitate to use the word “progressive” because every label is limiting, but I am aligned with much of what this community values. These gatherings draw Muslims from all walks of life, including those still working out their relationship to Islam, those full of questions, those from the queer community, and everyone in between.

It was, in the most tender sense, a gathering of Muslim misfits. People who still love this tradition deeply but have struggled to find a place where they belong within mainstream Muslim communities. As we watched the sun sink over the Bay Area from the Berkeley hills, the Golden Gate Bridge shimmered in the last light, and deep oranges, purples, and golds bled across the sky, highlighting the silhouette of the city of my childhood. A man stepped forward and gave the adhan, his voice rising, filling the room with reminders to come to prayer, and we gathered together for Maghrib prayer.

War is on my mind, and I suspect it’s on yours too. I find moments of presence and even delight throughout the day, and then I remember what is happening elsewhere in the world. What are you doing to stay grounded while also bearing witness to the terror faced by our brothers and sisters abroad?