Sajid A. Khan @thesajidakhan - Tumblr Blog

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Each breath a struggle toward God a resistance within to heal the strata of the subconscious a perseverance to break free and ascend to higher levels of living and, thereby, rise into and manifest an evolutive, optimum self in relationship, among community, and with the world. (Pictured: the two pieces of my “a man apart” home collection. Extra respect for anyone who knows where the top painting is from.) https://www.instagram.com/p/COffraej2EQ/?igshid=1opd7w8nufwlg

On this day 22 years ago, life’s course shifted. In mere moments, a fatal heart attack miles away from where I sat in a San Jose High School classroom altered my story forever. From then on, a loss of innocence, a catapult into adulthood. Every major decision filtered through the lens of that gaping void, life often lived but not on my terms. From then on, a rupture of the soul, a wound of the spirit. Every relationship and interaction altered by the sudden loss, my bleeding subconscious often in control. That fateful Friday has spawned who and what and where I am. His death is the seed of my adult soul. From him in the ground sprouts me, the gray in the beard, scarred, complex, worn, rehabbing, gritty, stout, brave, battle tested being that shows up in the world today. The journey to God, and to Abba, continues. (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNuvM6kjGRs/?igshid=19xjhgsbuhvr2

The timeless struggle. The author of this existence Has penned a perpetual story With different casts and characters And varied backdrops But A repeating plot A loop of consistent conflict A morphing but continued battle Between oppressors and the oppressed corruption and justice tyranny and freedom condemnation and compassion vengeance and mercy white supremacy and Black Lives Matter Misogyny and humility Exploitation and respect Excess and moderation So the pursuit in this life, then, isn’t necessarily to solve these enduring dilemmas The journey is to struggle. show up to the fight not numb or run from the raging, evolving war meet moments and manifest truths keep eyes open and chest wide bare witness to peril and plight hone and refine intentions give the best and all of ourselves rest and recover after inevitable defeat and get up and grind again breathe in suffering and breathe out resistance write ourselves onto the right side of this repeating history. (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMx9ZdMjBV2/?igshid=z7iyo7wbrcm9

It’s an interesting feeling to lose someone I barely knew, someone oceans and continents away, someone who lived upon a homeland that has never felt like home for me. But also someone whose blood flows through my body, whose face I see in the mirror, whose bright brown skin matched mine, who signed the same regal & stout last name as I do, who shared a degree of separation from and once lived with Abba just like me. This week, my uncle, my Taya, my dad’s elder brother, Abdul Azeez Khan, a man I had met and spoken to maybe 5 times in my entire life, passed away in his and my father’s hometown of Madras, now known as Chennai, India. Upon hearing the news via text from my cousin in Chicago, tears came pouring from parts previously unknown. Perhaps flowing from a deep pool of regret but perhaps, too, streaming from a vast container of connection. Pain that he was my uncle in name only, but also heartache because he was MY Taya, an exclusive, special, non fungible relationship authored in blood and soul fibers by the divine. Such is life in diaspora, simultaneously disconnected from and connected to motherland & tribe, a perpetual medley of grief for barely tethered family ties mixed with the affirmation and reinforcement of quiet, supernatural kinship. Rest In Peace, Taya. May you and Abba be reunited and bask in eternal brotherhood and bliss. (at Chennai, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKolqQ3jYBs/?igshid=px7su0o5i6vc

Inspired by and an homage to Khalil Gibran’s “On Joy and Sorrow.” (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKPwn1vj0OC/?igshid=1gzp6rtctvqjw

pause and ponder that which makes you smile your widest smile that which sprouts sweetness of the soul and leaves the heart full that which ignites movement and emanates the light your lovers love that which inspires the eulogy at your wake traceback to its roots and you’ll discover seeds of scars and a soil of ashes watered by blood and tears. (Photo taken by me on a recent visit with my mom to the cemetery in Livermore where my dad is buried) (at Five Pillars Farm) https://www.instagram.com/p/CKMSMvKjveu/?igshid=1at6486m812e3

After all the years of grinding & suffering & pushing to heal & no longer hurt: rest rehab therapy treatments Ointments Balms Bandaids & potions —- The scars still surface Not bleeding exposed Or contagious But still Sensitive to touch So I Clench & Cringe & clam up when they’re collided with Sigh. I guess I’m human after all. and I guess I have more fuckin’ work to do. (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIMQeIljpTE/?igshid=cwzuy37yaui

Gameday! cal_football’s home opener at the historic California Memorial Stadium in Berkeley: the Big Game vs. Stanfurd. COVID... so we can’t be there in person like we usually would, but me, Sulaiman & Shakur cheer on in cutout form. Go Bears! #gobears #rollonyoubears #beatstanfurd (at California Memorial Stadium) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIGntA5jhE5/?igshid=gesmngki0k77

#gobears #rollonyoubears #beatstanfurd

Alex Trebek: the facilitator of Khan family memories and connection

“Oh no, I’m sorry...”

My younger sister Sana took these pictures last year. Our whole family - my mom, four siblings, sister-in-law, two sons, two nieces and two nephews - had gathered at our home in San Jose and, per family tradition, battled one another in a game of Jeopardy.

Over the years for as long as I can remember, the rules remained the same, no matter how many family members (often me versus my brothers Suhail and/or Salman) were present and playing: first person to yell out the correct answer got a point; you lost a point if you guessed wrong; for final Jeopardy, quietly write down your wager and answer on scrap paper or smartphone notepad. All non-playing people present had to remain relatively silent and avoid blurting random responses or risk the ire of the competitive Khans fighting for bragging rights.

Growing up, Suhail, my oldest brother and probably the most well read among us, would dominate, so beating him was particularly triumphant and satisfying. As the years passed, the rest of us grew older and more learned and the categories became a bit more modern and diverse, so Suhail’s reign of dominance diminished slightly and the playing field leveled, but the games remained serious business. When Suhail would visit home from DC, it was always game on.

One constant was/is Alex Trebek, the trusty, sharp witted steward of Jeopardy, reliably on everyday, Channel 7 at 7pm. He stood as a consistent voice of my childhood into adolescence and now adulthood, the referee for our battle royales, the facilitator of Khan family memories and connection. It’s surreal that he’s gone now because he’s always been there.

Thank you, Mr. Trebek. Rest In Peace.

#ripalextrebek #alextrebek #jeopardy @ San Jose, California

A blessed, socially distant gathering earlier this Sunday morning: our men’s talking circle - me, Abdullah, Thamer, Ali, Farid & Umar, coming from San Jose, Elk Grove, Milpitas, Fremont and Sacramento - converging in Tracy to hear, support and guide one another. #alhamdulillah (at Lincoln Park Tracy CA) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFp7LL4j3T1/?igshid=1i7adacao7s71

#alhamdulillah

38. The journey to God continues. Here’s to a revolutionary 39th revolution around the sun (and thanks to my sister Sana @chaiandpieco for the birthday pie). #protectyourpeople #alhamdulillah (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CFgOIAyjSf0/?igshid=cpxqwdfnmmgf

#protectyourpeople #alhamdulillah

A global pandemic Masks Social distancing Ventilators Lonely deaths Zoom school Work from home No sports Cancelled graduations, weddings & trips Closed stores, restaurants & gyms DIY haircuts Wildfires Fiery orange skies & dark days burials Kobe Chadwick RBG John Lewis George Floyd Rayshard Brooks Breanna Taylor 2020 is the worst. Maybe. Girl dads The nba bubble cardboard cutouts & baseball games Black lives matter Defund the police Uprising in the streets Walks Bikes Nature Neighbors & Neighborhoods Family Babies Zoom calls Elbow bumps Open roads Awakening Rest Reflection Reading Revolution Reimagining 2020 is what we needed. Maybe. 2020 is the curse and the cure. Maybe. Or maybe 2020 is just what it is: another year of volatile, full, unpredictable life on this forever mysterious, confusing, beautiful planet. #2020 #maybe #thechinesefarmer https://www.instagram.com/p/CFZugJQDpN6/?igshid=1v3f3ed1okgsk

#2020 #maybe #thechinesefarmer

Can you spot me and the boys at the Oakland Coliseum for the 2020 A’s season? We can’t be there in person, but we’re there in spirit and in cutout form down the right field line. #letsgooakland (at Oakland A's at Oakland Coliseum) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEU6ajHDgy7/?igshid=1lmqxuvf06fxd

#letsgooakland

Last night, Sully’s creative mind crafted an art project idea: for us to each draw our own imagined solar systems. Here’s what we saw in our minds eyes and put to paper this morning:) (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBqrQwljmul/?igshid=1g2m1z68wtmip

Sully started a pretend shop in our family room, “Sulaiman’s Toy Store.” His prices are so low- things are just a few cents each- confirming he’s an old soul living with wiring from the 1920s rather than the 2020s. Either that or he has no concept of what things cost and thinks he can pay for stuff with loose change. (at San Jose, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBi-aceDSX1/?igshid=wgi1u9k2p0wy

So proud of my nephews Yasin & Saleh who both graduated 8th grade this week on opposite sides of the country - Yasin in Connecticut, Saleh here in California. Grateful that I could witness each special ceremony on Zoom. These two young men are sweet, resilient, intelligent, athletic, curious, creative and beautiful. Both have braved uneven, untraditional, sometimes traumatic upbringings with grace and grit. I’m excited to witness them rise and grow into leading, healthy, well rounded, authentic, honorable men in our family, community and country. Congrats gentlemen! https://www.instagram.com/p/CBTZHtvjcaf/?igshid=1qr53lmw3z4d9

Next week will mark the end of Sulaiman’s first grade year at @granadaschool. His teacher, as part of a year end activity, asked that he and his classmates each include a video, essay or pictures of their favorite first grade memories to include in a slideshow. This is Sully’s contribution- a hand drawn piece of him and his friends playing soccer on the school field at recess. The drawing took my breath away- in this day and age of phones & computers, tiktok & instagram along with a pervasive culture that often dissuades boys and men from artistic expression, I feel so proud that this beautiful boy chose to manifest his favorite memories in the form of raw, vulnerable, unabashed, old school art made with his hands and pencils. And then the picture’s content made me smile wide. Every morning on our way to school before shelter in place, I’d ask Sully what he was excited about- he’d, without fail, say soccer with his friends. Everyday after school and/or before bed, I’d ask him to share his 3 favorite things of the day- number 1, without fail, was soccer with his friends. I so appreciate his love for sport and am so in awe of the sweetness of childhood. May God protect and preserve him and his classmates as they close this chapters so journey forward into 2nd grade :) (at Granada Islamic School) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAySHTkjVor/?igshid=etdbmqxg79m5

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