As the body dies...

I find the following description to be grotesquely fascinating, as I read about "death" in wikipedia. I really have to share it with you folks... *snicker*

Physiological consequences of human death

For the human body, the physiological consequences of death follow a recognized sequence through early changes into bloating, then decay to changes after decay and finally skeletal remains.

The changes in the immediate post-death stage have received the most attention for two reasons - firstly it is the stage mostly likely to be seen by the living and secondly because of the research of forensics in potential crimes.

Soon after death (15 to 120 minutes depending on various factors) the body begins to cool (algor mortis), becomes pallid (pallor mortis), and internal sphincter muscles relax leading to the release of urine, feces, and stomach contents if the body is moved. The blood moves to pool in the lowest parts of the body, livor mortis (dependent lividity), within thirty minutes and then begins to coagulate. The body experiences muscle stiffening, rigor mortis, which peaks at around twelve hours after death and is gone in another twenty-four, depending on temperature. Within a day the body starts to show signs of decomposition (decay), both autolytic changes and from 'attacking' organisms - bacteria, fungi, insects, mammalian scavengers, etc. Internally the body structures begin to collapse, the skin loses integration with the underlying tissues, and bacterial action creates gases which cause bloating and swelling. The rate of decay is enormously variable; a body can be reduced to skeletal remains in days, or remain largely intact for thousands of years.

In most cultures, before the onset of significant decay, the body is ritually disposed of, usually either cremated or deposited in a tomb, often a hole in the earth called a grave, but also in a sarcophagus, a crypt, sepulchre, or ossuary, a mound or barrow, or endlessly monumental surface structures, a mausoleum such as the Taj Mahal. In certain cultures efforts are made to retard the decay processes before burial, mummification or embalming. This happens during or after a funeral ceremony. Many funeral customs exist in different cultures.

A new alternative is "ecological burial": this involves subsequently deep-freezing, pulverisation by vibration, freeze-drying, removing metals, and burying the resulting powder, which has 30% of the body mass. [1] (http://www.promessa.se/sagardettill_en.asp)

Graves are usually grouped together in a plot of land called a "cemetery" or a "graveyard" and can arranged by a funeral home or undertaker or by a church.

source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death

(dang... I wanna insert the word "morbid" somewhere in this post, but couldn't find a place for it. Oh wait a minute... hey I did put it in! yayy! *another cheap snicker*)

So Close

Just found out from wikipedia that Prophet Muhammad's birthday in Gregorian calendar was calculated to be on April 20th, 570/571 AD.

Note that this year, that's only two days away from April 22nd, i.e. 12 Rabiul-Awal - also his birthday in Hijri calendar.

Yeah, not as dramatic a revelation as it would have been if they had coincided on the same day, i gotta admit that. But still, no harm for a little wow there.

Female-Led Prayers: A Step Forward for Women?

Taken from http://www.islamonline.net/askaboutislam/display.asp?hquestionID=9651
If the copyright owner wishes this post to be retracted, please contact me at haya_shiloh@yahoo.com

I think this is a good reply to the Dr. Amina Wadud Leading a Friday Prayer issue. I think further analysis is still necessary, perhaps in lights of relevancy to the issue (e.g. possible red-herring-ness, i don't know).

Question:
On March 18, 2005 Amina Wadud led the first female-led Jumu`ah Prayer. On that day, women took a huge step towards being more like men. But, did we come closer to actualizing our God-given liberation?
From Sarah - United States

Answer:
This answer was kindly provided by Sister Yasmin Mogahed, a member of Ask About Islam Editorial Staff. Yasmin is an Egyptian-American journalist based in Wisconsin, USA. She is currently studying for a Master's degree in Journalism.

Salam, Sarah.

Thank you for your inspiring question!

Well, answering your question, I can say that I don’t think so.

What we so often forget is that God has honored women by giving them value in relation to God—not in relation to men. But as Western feminism erases God from the scene, there is no standard left but men. As a result, the Western feminist is forced to find her value in relation to a man. And in so doing, she has accepted a faulty assumption. She has accepted that man is the standard, and thus a woman can never be a full human being until she becomes just like a man—the standard.

When a man cut his hair short, she wanted to cut her hair short. When a man joined the army, she wanted to join the army, and so on. She wanted these things for no other reason than because the “standard” had it.

What she didn’t recognize was that God dignifies both men and women in their distinctiveness, not their sameness. And on March 18, Muslim women made the very same mistake.

For 1,400 years, there has been a consensus of scholars that men are to lead Prayer. As a Muslim woman, why does this matter? The one who leads Prayer is not spiritually superior in any way. Something is not better just because a man does it. And leading Prayer is not better just because it is leading. Had it been the role of women or had it been more divine, why wouldn’t the Prophet have asked Lady `A’ishah or Lady Khadijah, or Lady Fatimah—the greatest women of all time—to lead? These women were promised heaven and yet they never led Prayer.

But now, for the first time in 1,400 years, we look at a man leading Prayer and we think, “That’s not fair.” We think so, although God has given no special privilege to the one who leads. The imam is no higher in the eyes of God than the one who prays behind. On the other hand, only a woman can be a mother. And the Creator has given special privilege to a mother. The Prophet taught us that heaven lies at the feet of mothers. But no matter what a man does, he can never be a mother. So why is that not unfair?

When asked who is most deserving of our kind treatment? The Prophet replied "your mother" three times before saying "your father" only once. Isn’t that sexist? No matter what a man does, he will never be able to have the status of a mother.

And yet even when God honors us with something uniquely feminine, we are too busy trying to find our worth in reference to men, to value it or even notice it. We too have accepted men as the standard; so anything uniquely feminine is, by definition, inferior. Being sensitive is an insult, becoming a mother is a degradation. In the battle between stoic rationality (considered masculine) and selfless compassion (considered feminine), rationality reigns supreme.

As soon as we accept that everything a man has and does is better, all that follows is just a knee jerk reaction: if men have it, we want it too. If men pray in the front rows, we assume this is better, so we want to pray in the front rows too. If men lead Prayer, we assume the imam is closer to God, so we want to lead Prayer too. Somewhere along the line, we’ve accepted the notion that having a position of worldly leadership is some indication of one’s position with God.
A Muslim woman does not need to degrade herself in this way. She has God as a standard. She has God to give her value; she doesn’t need a man here.

In fact, in our crusade to follow men, we, as women, never even stopped to examine the possibility that what we have is better for us. In some cases, we even gave up what was higher only to be like men.

Fifty years ago, we saw men leaving the home to work in factories. We were mothers. And yet, we saw men doing it, so we wanted to do it too. Somehow, we considered it women’s liberation to abandon the raising of another human being in order to work on a machine. We accepted that working in a factory was superior to raising the foundation of society—just because a man did it.
Then after working, we were expected to be superhuman—the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect homemaker, and have the perfect career. And while there is nothing wrong, by definition, with a woman having a career, we soon came to realize what we had sacrificed by blindly mimicking men. We watched as our children became strangers, and soon recognized the privilege we’d given up.

And so only now—given the choice—women in the West are choosing to stay home to raise their children. According to the United States Department of Agriculture, only 31 percent of mothers with babies, and 18 percent of mothers with two or more children, are working fulltime. And of those working mothers, a survey conducted by Parenting Magazine in 2000, found that 93 percent of them say they would rather be home with their kids, but are compelled to work due to “financial obligations.” These “obligations” are imposed on women by the gender sameness of the modern West and removed from women by the gender distinctiveness of Islam.
It took women in the West almost a century of experimentation to realize a privilege given to Muslim women 1,400 years ago. Given my privilege as a woman, I only degrade myself by trying to be something I’m not, and in all honesty, don’t want to be—a man. As women, we will never reach true liberation until we stop trying to mimic men and value the beauty in our own God given distinctiveness.

If given a choice between stoic justice and compassion, I choose compassion. And if given a choice between worldly leadership and heaven at my feet, I choose heaven.
I hope my words answer your question. In case you have any comment or you need more about the topic, please don’t hesitate to contact us again. Thank you and please keep in touch.
Salam.

Useful Links:
Woman Leading Men in Prayer
Women Leading Friday Prayer: AMJA’s Statement

Not scared of Hell

I have this peculiar attitude: I'm not scared of Hell. It's not that I feel cocky, but it's rather that I feel resigned to my fate, if that is what God deemed me to get. So I shall get thrown into Hellfire? so be it. I asked for it anyways. After all those guidelines, hidayahs, knowledge, I still chose the path to doom time and time again. That is what I deserve then.

Of course I tried to avoid Hell. Of course, given Hell or Heaven, I would choose the latter without even stopping to think. But what if God's creed dictates otherwise? who am I to plea against the Infinite Justice? Yes, God is also Infinite in His Mercy, but what if He chose that I am not even worth considering?

To make matters worse, I am not even one for repenting. Oupp, don't get me wrong here. Doesn't mean I don't want to improve myself for the better; I just find it hard to make an effort to ask for God's forgiveness for what I have already done. I see them as the irreversible past. The minus score has been given. I might get higher score later through super duper noble good deeds (if their worth won't get thrown out of the window first because of my self-congratulatory nature, that is), that might offset my past demerits, and indeed, these are among the goals that I am striving for. But what if they are not enough? That's it, then, I'd say. I'm screwed. Maybe not for eternity, since I still believe in one God, but what goes around, comes around, I guess.

Something's wrong with me somewhere... hmm.

Heck, maybe I AM too cocky. Maybe I am underestimating the horrors there are in Hell. That I think I am going to experience suffering only at the level I can consciously think of, like being bitten on the nose by a mosquito while my arms and legs are tied, or being forced to listen to chalkboard scraping for eternity, or force-fed to watch crappy TV shows for another couple of eternities.

Maybe I am cocky coz the punishment isn't here yet, so I can talk big all I want, without realizing that later I have to stuff my foot in my mouth.

Maybe, maybe.

But I do have one true fear. I fear that my action, or inaction, would somehow cause somebody else to suffer, be it now or in the hereafter. I really take this seriously. It's ok if I got thrown to Hell because of my own doing, but somebody else because of me? Noooo, I'd rather jump in their place and experience Hell multiple times than let others take the brunt of my wrongdoings (Again, talking big here eh?).

And now that I am in the leadership position, now that people are relying on me to lead them to Heaven or Hell, I am in a much more catalytical position than I was bargaining for.

I am scared. Really, really scared.

Love without sight

Is it possible to grow to love someone not through her/his physical looks, not because of the voice, or the strength, or the daintiness, but through listening to the words spoken by her/him?

When there is a curtain between the two, when there is a distance between the two, when eyes see words, not face; when the hands weaves the words, not the mouth... can we grow to love someone that way?

Somehow, I think this is more beautiful way to start. It strips away from the judging person the superficial aspects that gets in the way, and goes straight to the heart, straight to the mind, and straight to the soul. We see not how winsome her looks are, but how charming her mannerism is. We hear not how sweet her voice is, but how eloquent her words are. We are not able to lust for her sexuality, but we can admire her clarity of thoughts.

(dammit so much for gender equality in writing, but what the heck, i'll dispose of political correctness for a while, and just speak my mind)

True, I would admit that this is not to say that physical traits are unimportant. In the quest for love, the paths of each individual can't forever be apart. When lives become intertwined, what comes straight to the eyes, to the ears, to the senses, rules our immediate judgment. If each party can't come to accept what the other physically is, despite loving what is inside, what is unseen, I don't think things will bide well for them.

I can see that we have two ways to begin the journey. One way is the classical western way: Love at First Sight, where looks is foremost before we notice the inner person. The other way is this Love Without Sight, where consciousness preceeds the manifestation. (Arranged marriage is another interesting possibility, but I won't address it for now).

If love hinges on certain traits that one have, then clearly the latter is at an advantage here. For a person is the same person inside, although appearance might change. Taut young skin shrivels into wrinkles of age. Strength of youth dwindles into frailty of old. Sharp senses at the prime blunts into dull sensations near the end. But the soul stays. More enriched, yes, more experienced, wiser to the world, but the same person nevertheless. And if this is what you come to love, then you had chosen to love something that is truly immortal.

The Power of Shahadah

I was reading Jeffrey Lang's Even Angels Ask. Then I came to this one short account, which really moved me to tears. I really want to share this with everybody. Following is a faithful reproduction of the story. To the copyright owners, if you feel that this is a breach of your rights, do send me a note (haya_shiloh@yahoo.com), and I shall respectfully remove it.

Mosques and Islamic centers in Europs and America bring together a vast array of peoples from all over the Muslim world. Very often a masjid will contain many small cultural clusters with no one of them in the majority. This is especially true of the masjids run by Muslim student groups at western universities. Such a diverse assemblage of cultures will produce many differences of opinions, which can evolve quite easily into bitter arguments and community rifts.

Such a quarrel arose one night in the mosque at the University of San Francisco. I do not remember the precise cause of the fray; it had something to do with a pile of anti-Shiite tracts that someone left in the mosque. This happened at the height of the Iran-Iraq war, and a great deal of politico-religious propaganda was being disseminated by both sides of the conflict and by their allies. I recall vividly how explosive the scene became.

The Saudis raged against the Kuwaitis and Iranians, the Pakistani students allied themselves with the Saudis, the white Americans defended the Iranians, the African Americans were against the white Americans, the North African and Palestinian students seemed to be fighting each other and everyone else, the Malaysian students looked terrified. All sorts of bitter, malicious, racial and personal attacks flew back and forth.

"You Shiah are Kaffirs!"
"You Saudis worship your king!"
"What do Americans know about Islam?!"
"Pakistanis are nothing but the lackeys of the Saudis!"
"Our people were Muslims long before you white boys ever were!"
"You're proud of following Elijah Muhammad?![*]"
"Palestinians got what they deserved!"

Faces were red with rage. Shouts become threatening roars. The American students were clenching their fists and tensing their arms, readying themselves for a fight. This was definitely going to be the end of our community.

From over in the corner of the room a desperate cry rang out:
"La ilaha illa Allah! Muhamadan rasulu Allah!"
It was Ilyas, the always quiet, skinny, short student from Indonesia. He hardly ever spoke a word. The room quieted.
"What did he say?" Several persons asked each other.
Ilyas shouted again at the top of his lungs:
"La ilaha illa Allah! Muhamadan rasulu Allah!"
"Say it!" Ilyas yelled, "Say it!"
Most of us murmured confusedly: "La ilaha illa Allah - Muhamadan rasulu Allah?"
"What does he want?" someone whispered.
"Say it like you mean it!" Ilyas screamed.

Maybe it was because he said it with so much authority or with so much passion, but for some reason we now felt the need to obey this normally meek and inconspicuous member of our mosque. Our voices rose in unison with Ilyas leading us:
"La ilaha illa Allah! Muhamadan rasulu Allah!"

You could feel the hate and anger dissipating. All eyes were fixed on Ilyas. The faces of the brothers looked mesmerized. Some of them showed sadness, some remorse, and others excitement. The whole company now needed Ilyas to lead them again.
"Again!" Ilyas bellowed. "Again!"
This time we all rang out in one passionate, thundering cry:
"La ilaha illa Allah! Muhamadan rasulu Allah!"
Then again we cried out, following Ilyas's lead:
"La ilaha illa Allah! Muhamadan rasulu Allah!"

Ilyas stopped, froze there for a moment with tears in his eyes. He looked at us in the way a child looks at his parents when he wants them to stop fighting.
"That's what it is all about, brothers!" Ilyas pleaded, his voice cracking. "That's what binds us!"
"Just look at us!" He shouted, stretching out his arms.

At that, the brothers began to slowly approach one another with looks of great embarrassment on their faces. What easily could have exploded into a spectacle of complete pandemonium, was now a scene of handshakes, brotherly hugs, and sincere apologies. The next day, the mosque was back to normal, and I never heard anyone discuss the argument again.

-----
Taken from Even Angels Ask, by Jeffrey Lang, p157-158

[*] Elijah Muhammad was the leader of Nation of Islam, considered by mainstream Muslim community as a heretical cult. For more info, visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elijah_Muhammad