It’s my way or… I guess I’m taking the highway.

In the midst of frustrations with my tragus, I’ve arrived to a realization about my body, and that’s if it reacts with complications to being wounded—i.e. those helix piercings that weren’t healing because I ran my hairbrush through them—it’s not going to heal properly around the wound unless I completely remove the piercing, let the wound heal until the cartilage is new, and repierce so that it heals properly this time without interference. No degree of tea tree oil, Neosporin, or cortisone injections to artificially “treat” the damage is going to reverse it until I remove the source. I have. To start. From scratch. If a single thing runs counter to acceptability, I have to tear the whole operation down and start over. I can pretend in vain to patiently accommodate the problems for a while, try to reason and negotiate with them, but I will recognize in the end that all I’ve done is delay what I inevitably have to do: tear the broken system down.

It frightens me how much my body is like my soul.

We really are soulmates, you & I.

Qur’an codes.

A couple of my closest friends know that in texts (and sometimes in person) I use Qur’anic verses as either code or abbreviations to quickly convey an expression or message. 33:33 “stay dignified in your homes” when I want someone to mind their own business. 12:31 “this is not a man; this is none but a noble angel!” when an individual is astoundingly attractive. 2:256 “no doubt the virtuous path has become clearly distinct from the erring” when a situation reveals itself unexpectedly. Etc.

It feels like an intimate sort of thing to do, and I always experience a warm rush when I cite the Qur’an this way as interwoven into and inseparable from my life. I am disclosing this formerly secretive activity to you, dear reader, upon inquiries as how to I read the Qur’an so differently. It is imbued into my personhood. (My heart.) I suppose these are “exercises” but I’ve never thought of them that way as much as they are intrinsic to my soul.

Once, a man (one befitting of 12:31) answered when I asked how he makes the decisions he does, “With my heart.” That is the only answer I have to any exegetical readings.

In other news, I recently created a Patreon account. Thank you to everyone who encouraged me and expressed an interest in funding for access to my work. I will be posting about it occasionally.

Handcuffs

On the way to a new job, I was stopped by security at the courthouse today after my purse went through the machine.

“Miss, are you law enforcement?”

“No,” I replied, slightly offended.

“Do you have …handcuffs in your purse?”

“Oh yeah!” I’d forgotten about them. I laughed.

“Can I see them?” As he spoke I pulled them out of my purse, two pieces of metal cuffs joined by a leather strap. Definitely not the handcuffs of a police officer. “Wa–Why…” the security stuttered. He blushed. “I mean, it doesn’t matter why. Let me… check if it’s on the list of [restricted] items.”

It was not on the list. He allowed me to proceed.

They had come in handy before, when a friend of mine forgotten her bike lock. “I can’t find my bike lock I wish I’d had something else on me like rope or–”

I’d pulled the handcuffs out of my purse. “How about these?”

She stared.

“What?” I’d asked defensively. “I needed them.”