The Price of a Brick: Part 2

(Link: Price of a Brick: Part 1)

He pointed out his finger to one of our teammate’s hand. “That watch.”

We all stood there motionless. Without hesitating, she unfastened her watch slowly and handed it over.

No way... I thought. But it wasn’t over yet.

“Bracelets,” he said. One of the sisters silently took off her bracelet and gave it to him.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re never going to see these again.”

My heart started racing. A sudden realization hit me. I prayed hard he wouldn’t say it- but he did. 

“Necklaces. Everyone who’s wearing them.” And my heart sank. Plummeted into my stomach and I gripped my hands hard.

I had forgotten that I was wearing my necklace. There were about 5-6 of us who were wearing them. A number of us started getting teary. So did I. I can understand why. What mattered the most was the sentimental value that I’m sure each necklace holds. 

I couldn’t give mine away. It meant so much to me and... This is really the cost for a brick? We had to sacrifice all of our valuables to just finish of this checkpoint? Just for a few building blocks and we’ll never see it again? 

Honesty stood strong and I quietly unfastened it. I took one last look and dropped it in the facilitator's outstretched hands.

That gained us two bricks. We continued the obstacle dejectedly and completed the objective. There was an air of disbelief and dissatisfaction.

Before we walked off to the next checkpoint, he concluded the objective of the game: “Remember you have so much. While the orphans have so little. Imagine if you have children, and you passed away. You would be praying endlessly for someone to be kind-hearted enough to provide for them.” I saw the logic and nodded silently.

That night all participants sat in the hall. The facilitator stood up. He started reflecting about the checkpoints and he pointed out the most important checkpoint: Pengorbanan.

It was incredible. Some of the male participants had promised and sacrificed their phones, camera, money (in the hundreds) and watches among other things. Female participants mostly gave valuables, accessories, necklaces, bracelets and wedding rings. We had two female participants stand up and talked about their sacrifice: A necklace which belonged to their mother.

It was an emotional session. A lesson hard to swallow. But I learnt well. We learnt about what it means to sacrifice. That what we have is from Allah and He can take it back whenever He wants to. That this world is a sojourn and all materialistic things will not last. That sacrificing is such a depressing feeling but it’s what one must do for a better outcome. That this is only the start of more sacrifices to come. That the rewards are not in this world, but in the Hereafter.

For me, I couldn’t look that well without my spectacles. But not to the point that I couldn’t see anything infront of me. I was short-sighted but I was not too affected by it. My grievance was for my necklace. I wasn’t too emotionally pressured- but it did have a lot of personal value. But I accepted it because of the lessons that we learnt.

When I think about it clearly now, I mulled over the facilitator’s words. It struck me that I’ve repeatedly heard the story of how Ibrahim was ordered to sacrifice his own son. I had always heard but never deeply reflected on it. Only after having had to sacrifice just a few materials, did I realize just a bit of what it meant to sacrifice.

A lot of us were still affected by it that night. Even until the next morning.

We had a session in the morning at the hall. Before we started our next program, the faciltator made an announcement. 

“I see that people are still affected by the sacrifices that they had to make and are still unable to accept it. I’m satisfied that you all feel that sadness and loss. Listen well: Allah does not want your valuables- He wants your intentions.

Earlier this morning, a female participant came up to me and handed me her wedding ring that she had promised to sacrifice. Even until now, people are still sacrificing what they had promised. Incredible.

So, I have decided: That we will return all that you have sacrificed.”

I could feel the tension lift. Some were still in disbelief and some had weak smiles on. 

Our valuables all were returned back to us. After having had to squint for less than 24 hours and having had to plan on how to deal without glasses for the next few days, I finally received my glasses back. And I got my necklace back.

Whether he planned to return the valuables in the beginning or not, a part of me also believed he wouldn’t- because he had sounded so convincing. But a part of me believed he would. Because where our things returned, they were in envelopes and labelled by group.

The price of that brick costed hundreds of ringgits, streaming tears and our heavy hearts. But it came with an invaluable life lesson I would never forget.

The Price of a Brick

Brick: a small rectangular block typically made of fired or sun-dried clay, used in building.

I just came back from training camp. It was overall okay- not too tiring but not too relaxing either. I’ve one incredible story I’d like to share.

On the second day of camp, we had to go through 5 checkpoints. Each checkpoint had an objective we had to complete. They had their own instructions, obstacles and solutions. Some needed a lot of thinking, some a lot of physical power and one of them- a strong heart.

At around 3pm, after our lunch and prayers, we trudged towards our second checkpoint. It was called “Ambassador”. 

He introduced the topic to us: Being an ambassador means being a representative, a model, the person who will be in the front line. But to reach this point meant one thing- it means we have to sacrifice.

Before we began, our facilitator gave instructions on what we had to do, the rules and the objective of the ‘game’. We had to walk through a pathway of planks and hoops, with its conditions, while holding hands. After discussing, we started on the pathway and easily overcame the first obstacle. On the second obstacle however, we reached a hoop where we had to jump from the plank we were on towards it without stepping on the grass anywhere else. The feat was (purposely) impossible to do. After a number of failed attempts, the facilitator intervened.

Said the facilitator, “You’ve been unable to pass this obstacle. Try to think and use the things from your surroundings.”

We saw some bricks lying around.

“May we use the bricks?” I asked.

“No.” He continued, “Those bricks belong to me.”

“What if we borrowed them?”

“You can’t borrow them.” He answered.

“What if we paid for them?” piped a teammate.

“How much money do you have?” I don’t think any of us brought any money along. 

“What if we exchanged something for the brick?” someone suggested.

“What are you willing to give?”

We all were speechless.

“At the start, I’ve already explained to you. This checkpoint is about ‘pengorbanan’ (sacrifice). You have it in you. But you just don’t know yet what you want to sacrifice. Ibrahim (a.s.) was ordered by Allah to sacrifice his own son.”

We all stayed silent, still unsure of where he was heading with this.

“Can we sacrifice ourselves? Like we sit there and the people step over us.” But how could we? All our hands were joined and it was impossible.

After a few minutes of silence, the facilitator spoke: “I am involved with an orphanage,” he started. 

“Whatever you give, in exchange for a brick, I will use it to give it to the orphanage. Whatever you give to me, it will be the last time you see it. You won’t be getting it back.” It was a very serious order and we took note of it. Little did we realize at that time how heavy it would mean.

At first one would think “Would he really use it for an orphanage? Will he give it, whatever we had to sacrifice, back to us?” My rationale was this: I’ve met this trainer before and I trusted him. He is a well-known trainer and facilitator. And although there was a small part in my heart that felt that he’d return it, I told myself probably we’d never see our ‘sacrifices’ again.

A teammate voiced out: “I have a pen.”

“What kind of pen is it?” He inquired.

“Pilot brand,” she said.

“Let me see it.” He inspected it and said, “I will accept this. But it still is not enough for the brick.”

“I have my Qur’an,” said another sister.

“Show me.” he said.

Quietly, she took out her Qur’an. It was tattered and had a lot of sticky notes sticking out, picturing a Qur’an so often used. With tears streaming down her face, she passed the Qur’an to him.

We all looked at each other. Someone else said, “We have brooches.”

“How many of you?”

A few hands shot up and he gestured it to be passed over.

I searched my own pockets. Nothing. I wasn’t even wearing my watch at that time. I didn’t know what I could give. And realizing at that moment the only thing I could sacrifice, I took off my spectacles and gave it to the facilitator.

He nodded and went to get a brick. He placed it in between the obstacle and we managed to pass it. Everything went fine until we reached the third obstacle. This time, it was further and we needed two bricks.

“There are two kinds of sacrifices.” The facilitator said. “One is where you volunteer it from your own heart. The second one is when it is an order.”

We all looked at him.

“I am going to ask for you to sacrifice something. And whatever it is, you must give it to me. Are you ready for this?”

None of us moved.

(To be continued... The Price of a Brick: Part 2)

Drawer's Block.

Today I got stuck while designing. I'd have to say the most difficult thing to design is a logo. You want to make it look as eye-catching as possible in the most smartest way and make people do a double-take when they look at it and say, "Wow, that's something."

The process of designing goes something like this for me:

1. A client orders something. They give all the details and I ask further questions and that settles it.
2. The ideation process begins. I go on art sites, google images and creative websites to search for ideas. This process normally take a few days. I start doodling on paper but never fully because I get tired and straight away start on Illustrator (this is where my mistake is. You're supposed to finish drafting on paper; else you'd be wasting a lot of time on Illustrator. But I get too impatient).
3. I draw something once. Then I re-draw it a bit differently. Then look at it from another angle. Change a few fonts here and there. Revamp the whole thing. Ditch it to the side. Start on a new paper. It goes on and on until the work gets something relatively to how I imagined it.

This is what my Illustrator workspace look like when designing something:

When I look at an artwork, I look at it once and say "Wow." A few seconds... and then move on to something else. I forget that someone could have spent hours and hours on something that might have looked simple. This alone took me 5-6 hours.

Well, it makes me appreciate artworks more:)

Felt like ranting because I couldn't find inspiration to make it look better than how it turned out:P