I love Islam and cream soda

4 Oct 2012 - Panel discussion on the experience of living as a Muslim in the Rocky Mountains featuring: Tajuddin Ashaheed (at 27:35), Colorado Muslim Council; Dr. Moin Siddiqui, CSU professor emeritus; Zeba Siddiqui, children's book author; Monir Ludin, Chair of the Abrahamic Initiative Steering Committee. Moderator: Nabil Echchaibi, University of Colorado Boulder. This event was presented by the Muslims in the Mountain West Project during the conference, "Muslim Voices in the Heartland", a 3-day event featuring discussion panels with local, regional and national Muslim writers, journalists, scholars, and activists. This event was hosted by the Center for Media, Religion and Culture and the Center for Asian Studies at the University of Colorado Boulder.

Did a radio show today - check the podcast (click link below) Auset Maryam Ali Presents: Guest: Brother Taj

So, I am studying and trying memorize the 57th surah/chapter of the Quran, called al Hadeed , or "Iron"... At the 25th verse, God states He "sent down" (arabic: anzalna ) iron, which man uses for its various benefits. It is interesting that He says this as opposed to other verbs - and while this could be read in a metaphorical sense, I have been chasing the literal meaning. So, I wondered: "sent down" from where...? Dipping into cosmology, I find that nothing in our solar system is h ot enough to create nearly all elements on/in our planet, and that they occur as the result of supernovas elsewhere (from a loooong time ago), its expelled matter streaking across the universe, eventually collecting into the cooling mass that became our solar system and planet. Now, the Quran is not a science manual, nor do I subscribe to the notion that science is supposed to confirm the veracity of the Quran, but I am impressed when there is a confluence of the tw...

My experience can be summed up by that scene in Rio in Furious Five, where The Rock's character tracks down Vin Diesel and his crew. The Rock is full of American puffery, with guns drawn about to arrest everybody, when Vin turns the tables, reminding him, “This is Brazil!” First off, I'm truly and sincerely sorry. And I know I must go beyond a mere apology and give some sort of explanation for my behavior. Truth is, I was being a dick. As a high level athlete representing a lone superpower in the greatest sports competition, I also carried a bit of pride and arrogance. I came to Rio, assuming it to just be a party  town enclosed in a third world country. With It's clogged rivers, corrupt politicians, and tainted mosquitos, it was easy to look at Brazil with disdain. Add to that, I simply had a less than stellar Olympic experience. I won a single gold, as the member of a relay team that featured my biggest nemesis as my teammate. Head to head against Phelps, I was a...

The Chinese say, “May you live in interesting times.” My life right now is an intense struggle of faith and revenance. I've been “here” before. At 19, I was a full -fledged hoodlum and on my way to prison, toting a 16 year sentence for robbery and a high speed police chase. At 26, I was free on parole. I'd converted to Islam, had a wife, a baby, and a house full. My new faith gave me a new direction and improbable and amazing opportunities. I became a market research manager, specializing in political polling, a community activist, and a Muslim advocate and speaker. I also became a writer and editorialist, a Jujitsu and MMA fighter, and even a bouncer. My life was indeed interesting, to say the least.

Over a decade ago several brothers and I were conducting a fitness-and-fellowship class at our masjid (mosque) on Denver’s Eastside. Our program was a mixture of a physical, often times grueling regimen of workout routines and kenpo karate drills, along discussions, debates, and homework/essays about Islam, spirituality and self-improvement. Many of us who participated fondly remember the program to this day (and intend to resurrect it soon). One weekend morning, our brother Curtis happened upon the class and after observing for a time, pulled me to the side and asked me what I knew about jujitsu. At the time, I had little idea that Curtis was a Brazilian Jujitsu black belt instructor at a well-known school in Aurora. I told him I knew only what I saw on TV, watching UFC fights.   Then Curtis said these fateful words: “Let me show you something…”

"Nigga" is a spoken word... A poem I wish I never heard A haiku that tastes like a lollipop or butterscotch With a bubble in it that cuts the roof of your mouth when you suck too hard on it "Nigga" swirls an effervescent tingle at the back of your throat, Before it backflips quick off the palette like a gymnast Yet I wince,  Every time I see white folks hear me and my niggas saying it We use "nigga" like a slave masters last name Both lies about our past – that we adopt anyway "Nigga" hangs in our mouth like niggas hung in the south