Category: Random Thoughts

  • Cheap Wisdom

    The obvious truths about life often escape us because we’re too distracted trying to figure out the complex issues. However, just as common sense is not so common, remembering the basics requires more than just a basic understanding of what life is about. It’s odd that those that have achieved much are trying to simplify their lives, yet those that have achieved little are striving for more. It’s also odd that those that are striving for simplicity are constantly reminding those that have less to be content with less.

    I’ve found that by mingling with the weak, I was always reminded of my own weaknesses and found comfort in being among those that were equally or more weak. However, in mingling with the puny, I found myself being belittled and undermined because they needed me to be reduced to their stature so that they would feel better about themselves. This seems oddly familiar when considered within the context of my former observation of mingling with the weak. It seems I’m deluding myself about my own puny-ness.

    It stands to reason that if we wish to improve ourselves we should associate with those that are better than who we are, or who have achieved what we aspire to achieve. However, unless this plays out in the workplace where we’re trying to move up into a higher salary bracket, in life as it occurs from day to day, such associations require a healthy dose of humble pie because it’s only in acceptance of our shortcomings or weaknesses that we are able to acknowledge that we can obtain benefit from someone that is more accomplished than ourselves. Let that someone be in our immediate circle of peers or contemporaries and even healthy doses of humble pie are insufficient to encourage any meaningful exchange of life’s lessons.

    It has been said that the ability to state the obvious is a sign of genius. I’m not so sure this is true even though I did profess to possess exactly this quality today. All in jest of course. The truth is, genius is over rated. Being able to see the obvious only requires a focus that does not consider the distractions. A clear grasp of purpose and objective makes it easy to navigate through the gunk in order to arrive at the desired destination, or at least to continue to head in that general direction. Unfortunately we afford distractions too much importance because we often set out without clearly understanding what it is that we wish to achieve or acquire. Like they say, when you don’t know where you’re going, any road will do. Similarly, when we set out with only a vague understanding of what it is that we need to achieve, it’s very likely that we’ll achieve very little, or worse, something completely unintended!

    Of course there are times when we’ll find ourselves in the middle of the perfect storm of lethargy in which case we’ll be the unwitting recipients of a seemingly great accomplishment simply because we allowed ourselves to unconsciously wander into a domain that we would never have consciously explored in the first place. Cheap wisdom is cheap because it’s not required to be coherent, but fortunately there will always be sincere ones among us that will look for the good in us that we don’t recognise in ourselves, thereby deriving benefit out of that which we discard as meaningless or inconsequential. If only we could see ourselves through such sincere spectacles we’d probably find that we wouldn’t undermine our potential to achieve greatness as much as we do while looking at the mirror through lenses glazed with cynicism.

  • Composed Insanity

    It’s been a long time since I’ve felt any sense of composure about me. I constantly feel as if I’m on the edge of finding that elusive balance, but each time I flirt with that notion I find myself immersed in yet another challenge or another initiative that is almost always self-imposed. Despite this, I’m not at odds with myself or my life even though it sounds or feels like I am at times. There appears to be a subtle but important difference that has emerged in the way I deal with adversity these days. On many previous occasions I resolved to be principled before being strategic, always assuming that the one negated the other, and as a result I found myself jobless on two occasions, and divorced on three.

    But I now seem to have an awkward balance between principles and strategy. Awkward because it doesn’t feel like something I’m ready to embrace just yet, even though I know that it’s better than the absolutist approach I adopted before. There’s a tinge of insanity that always lurks just beneath the surface spawned by the absence of fatherly guidance in my life. My life has never been garnished with a healthy dose of mentors, coaches, or the wisdom of an older generation directly passed down to me. At every major intersection I found myself standing alone and trying to decipher the road signs without the help of a guide or manual, with only an innate sense of spirituality and resilience that has been my companion throughout my life, and a keen sense of observation that helped me to glean some wisdom from the actions of the elders that I was sometimes exposed to.

    It’s difficult to explain, but the reality is that I’ve never had the benefit of a father, or a fatherly figure to refer to in times of growth or opportunity that threatened to launch me into a new phase of my life, even though I had a father until well into my adult years. My emergence from teenage naivety into my early adult years was driven by passion and purpose, with a burdensome sense of responsibility guiding my choices, always using the rights that others had over me as my guiding lights. Doing right by them always enjoyed a priority higher than satisfying my own needs, but in that I’ve found much fulfilment and resolve, as well as inspiration.

    It still didn’t make the difficult decisions any easier, or the mistakes any less grave. I wrought destruction at times when I thought I was acting selflessly, but in fact my idealism misguided me to the point of stupidity, resulting in much regret. The regret always set me back a couple of years at a time whenever the consequences of my idealism overwhelmed my sense of purpose which always extinguished any sense of passion that may have been left in me. It’s these same feelings of anxiousness and restlessness that inspired the never-to-be-delivered letter that I once wrote to my daughters.

    I pray that you never will understand some of what I’m going through, some of what I feel, or some of what I think…because to understand you would need to experience what I’ve experienced. And I wouldn’t want you to feel the pain and the anguish that I’ve felt that made me feel, see and think the way I do. Although it’s the same pain and anguish that has given me this appreciation for life, for a smile on a stranger’s face, or for the chirping of the birds. My wish is for you to learn from my experiences and the experiences of others because there’s so much more to life than the opportunity to make your own mistakes.

    The only way you can cheat time is to learn from the accumulated wisdom of generations past. But if you insist on learning it all yourself, know that you’ll never learn more than anyone who has lived only a single lifetime without any wisdom to draw on. Know that your pain and your anguish will be unnecessary, and know that your life would only ever be half-lived, if even that. So instead I pray that you are able to cheat time, acquire a wisdom beyond what you may inherit, and give your children more than what you had to cheat time with. And if you do this, know that you have achieved more than any human being can be expected to achieve in a single lifetime. This is the only path to immortality that I know.

    I wonder if they’ll ever appreciate the sentiments and sincerity in that should they ever come across it at an age when it may hold some relevance in their lives. But this is not a post about them, or what I yearn for them. It’s a post about the insanity that, being a constant in my life, allows me a sense of composure that robs me of rest, or ease. I find myself unable to remain still for long enough to appreciate the peace that exists at the tips of my fingers. That peace, that composure, is out of reach. The soul that guides the outstretched fingers remains distracted by the noise and the clutter of trying to live a life well lived, finding only turbulence and upheaval in a world full of people desperate to find silence. I’m not so unique in my desire to acquire what everyone else wants, but the path that each of us travel to arrive at this restless point is so vastly different that comparing notes would always be a futile exercise.

     

  • Of Narcissism and Doubt

    There is a dose of narcissism that is required if I am ever going to embark on writing that book about my rambles. I’ve despised such indulgences throughout my life because I’ve always felt like enough is never achieved to warrant such smugness or arrogance. I’ve been called all that and much more, but the opinions of others were usually just enough cause for brief moments of reflection and nothing more. Rarely did the condescension of others ever drag my spirit down. I was always very focused on dragging it down myself, so there was never room for others to get in on the action in that regard.

    Writing that book may prove to be the final release of all the clutter that contaminates my head space. However, it could also be the cause of even more clutter accumulating. I’m struggling to understand what my reason to write it will be. Will I write it because I believe I have a story worth sharing, or perspectives that are unique and potentially enlightening, or would I simply be writing it to finally secure the affirmation from the world that always seems to elude me?

    I still believe that what doesn’t break you only makes you more brittle. There is a point that we all reach in life, some sooner than others, where the trials and the struggles wear you down to a point where even the most basic of decisions becomes burdensome. When that happens to me, I’m reminded of how brittle I’ve become when faced with circumstances that echo the angst of the past. Trying to decide on whether or not to proceed with this book is akin to choosing to resurrect the tumultuous emotions that ripped through me each time I found myself staring insanity in the face. That insanity was not a reflection of my own state of mind, but rather the mindlessness of the troubled souls that I attracted far too often in my life.

    Every morbid joke I made about seeing the ugly side of ugly, or having more life in my years than most have years in their lives, and so much more all seem to taunt me now knowing that recalling all those lessons that informed my ramblings will test my resolve and my character, the outcome of which is anything but predictable. My book will not be a simple story, if a story at all. Perhaps it will be a collection of torment presented in a bouquet of beautiful words that bring life to the lie that this is a beautiful world as long as the words we use to describe it make it so.

    Pain will always remain what it is, regardless of whether we remember it or not. A life of selfless sacrifice does not always yield beauty. There are times, many times, when the sacrifices of others are simply the stepping stones of the self-obsessed. All this morbidity and sobriety does little towards guiding my decision about this book. Perhaps it’s not about the book at all. Perhaps it’s simply a symbol of my resistance towards acknowledging the gravity of the experiences of my life. Perhaps, writing that book will finally bring to the fore the crippling realisation that the beauty that I always pursued never existed to begin with, and the ugliness I saw in the souls of some was not just their veneer but in fact it was the essence of who they were. If that be true, I don’t think I want to contemplate what that may say about me.

  • A Self-Indulgent Reflection

    I have a  tendency to over commit. It’s a recent change in my personality, although many would probably accuse me of doing it for most of my life. I’m often seen as the guy that rarely says no, but my recent spate of over commitment is not a result of wishing to please, or trying to earn brownie points. Instead, it seems to be driven by a realisation that life is short.

    I know, that must sound weird, but when I mentioned this to someone recently, they looked visibly moved at the realisation of it, which almost visibly moved me. The realisation was a simple one although it suddenly feels as if the true gravity of it only dawned on me when I said it out loud. When I look back on my life it seems like a million things happened in the blink of an eye, yet when I look ahead, I often delude myself into believing that there’s much time remaining. But that’s the obvious part. Taking that moment to reflect on the million things that I’ve done relative to the million things that I would like to achieve, I suddenly realised that having the skills and resources to contribute towards courses that are infinitely larger than my own life almost demands that I make the contribution.

    It’s difficult to articulate, but the truth is, I’ve spent the better part of my life daydreaming about how I will be able to influence change on a global scale, but always feeling meek when I realise that I can barely influence it in my own life. That daydream is not so far fetched any longer. The occasional burst of interest by random strangers in thoughts that I share, and then seeing those thoughts shared with their circles, and even paraphrased in their own writing soon thereafter suddenly kindles that flame of hope that perhaps it is possible to influence that change that I wish to see in the world. For once, I’m not limited to the prejudices of the circles that I grew up in. I can, and do, finally engage in a circle of beings well beyond the bigotry of the society that spawned me.

    This must sound awfully clichéd but it’s true. I find when I engage with those around me and I share, without restraint or fear of ridicule, my true sentiments on what makes life worth living, or what makes death inviting, I get a very different response when compared with the times that I speak cautiously from fear of ridicule, or worse, dismissal. I’ve also realised that when I gave up the inclination to seek affirmation about what I think or what I do, I found a sense of empowerment within me that dwarfed any fears I previously had of interacting in a social setting. I went from being shy and introverted, to being bold, controversial, and able to address gatherings or strangers about topics I’m passionate about with barely any preparation or support at all.

    My old self always nags me to be cautious, and not to over indulge in the support or affirmation that I may receive at times, but a stronger more convincing voice in me denies the right of such doubt to be heard. I’ve stopped hiding behind diplomacy and political correctness, because the very hint of insincerity nauseates me. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many callous tongues that sought to subdue me rather than inspire me, almost always cloaked with the false pretences of wanting to protect or guide me. But the opinions of others holds no sway these days, because I’ve accepted (for some time now) that they just don’t get me, and never did. But I get them. I get them well, because while they were manipulating and soliciting popularity, I watched them closely, observing the doubts and the fears behind the bravado and the bullshit, and now when their opinions don’t matter any longer, I find it easy to use that knowledge of their weaknesses to cut through their defences and disarm them with the sharpest observations that leave them struggling to find their composure.

    It felt amazingly empowering at  first, but now it just feels normal. The realisation that most people are actors living out someone else’s fantasies and fads makes it easy to see people for what they are. Unfortunately more often than not, they’re not much to behold at all, except the few with substance that is.

  • A Brain Dump

    We buried my aunt last night. We weren’t very close, but she was a nice lady. She passed on in the afternoon, and we buried her by 22h00 the same evening in line with Muslim rites and customs. But like every funeral, I embraced the scent of camphor, probably more so than most would. We use camphor as an embalming agent to prepare the corpse for burial. So it’s always been a sobering reminder of the inevitable outcome of everything.

    Sobering! That was the lingering feeling that stayed with me throughout last night, and today. And it lingers still. At times in my life I often visited the cemetery alone on cold nights. Sometimes, if not always, I felt a sense of belonging, probably from the knowledge that that will be the final abode despite our best efforts to prolong our avoidance of it. Last night was different.

    Last night I made a feeble attempt to reflect on the sight of thousands of graves with their flaking lime-washed surrounds and the lives that were distilled into that piece of earth that didn’t care about their riches, their comforts, their legacies or their significance amongst men. It was cold to the touch, and lifeless. And the sense of belonging, or even yearning, escaped me. I felt dejected, not just in my own life any longer, but last night I felt dejected from the after life. Nothing offered me comfort or certainty, let alone peace. I had always felt some morbid sense of belonging to the dwellers of the graves.

    The above unfinished post has been laying in my drafts since August 2011. I never completed it, and I don’t think I can do so now either. But recent events in my life, mostly at the office, serves as a stark reminder of the purpose of my time on this earth. Betrayal is like pain, no matter how it is experienced, how long it persists, or how familiar it may become, it will never be a joy, nor a welcomed guest. I often have to remind myself of the advice I so readily dispense. Live with hope, not expectations.

    It’s been a while since I indulged myself in a brain dump. One is definitely called for, although the audience that I have solicited for my blog makes me hesitant to be as brutally honest about my thoughts as I used to be. The problem with trying to be yourself irrespective of those around you is that a large part of being yourself is in fact shaped by those around you. Thoughts spilt recklessly under the pretence of spilled ink, or freedom of expression, only adds to the already burdensome load of callousness in this world.

    Despite the incessant betrayals that I experience in my life, which incidentally becomes much easier to rack up if you’re naive like I choose to be, I still find it impossible, or at the least distasteful to treat others with suspicion simply because I was betrayed under similar circumstances before. I believe betrayal is the root to all evil, not money. We first have to betray ourselves, our deepest held convictions, before we can muster up the cowardice to betray others. Money is simply a distraction, like almost everything else that we surround ourselves with in life. Reflection is called for if we hope to know what it is that we stand for. With all the distractions there is little time for reflection, so it stands to reason that we’re more inclined towards acting in a way that contradicts our dreams and aspirations without realising it, while speaking wistfully of missed opportunities and bad decisions, because each time those opportunities visited us, or those decisions were made, we could barely discern the bullshit from the burden of reality.

  • Is that good I see?

    Acknowledging or praising the virtues of others when they’re around seems to carry a self-imposed burden of expectation that most of us resist. It’s easier for me to talk about this as a generalisation than to refer directly to my personal shortcomings, because in this vagueness lies some comfort as well. I’ve lost many people in my life that were significant others with whom I enjoyed a close and intimate personal relationship, or they were extended family, or even friends. Each time, I found myself trying to find comfort in the fact that my sincere inner prayers for their peace and comfort after death including privately acknowledging the good that they had in them is sufficient for not having acknowledged them while they were alive.

    But it’s never that easy. Acknowledging people when they’re alive, or at least present, does carry a burden of accountability that is not always self-imposed. I’ve often found myself on the receiving end of criticism when I acknowledged someone’s good, and they automatically assumed that I lost my right to criticise something else about them. I tend to be guilty of the same response at times as well. I guess we’re all defensive in that way, and I’m not sure if we start that vicious cycle ourselves in each relationship, or is it a perpetual cycle that was started long before we were even conceived.

    We live in a world of extremes. Digital thinking of zeros and ones, leading us to believe that it’s always all or nothing, but rarely any healthy balance in between. Recognising good in something, or someone, is often met with fierce criticism if we suddenly acknowledge something not-so-good in  them, as if it’s not possible for both good and bad to co-exist in a single person. I’ve been accused of being hypocritical before because I may have enjoyed a good relationship with someone while also taking exception to something that they may have been doing. Perhaps it’s not a vicious cycle, but instead an impossible standard that we hold others to, always forgetting that we’re also that ‘other’ to someone else that applies that same standard to us.

    We look at others and demand consistency and predictability, but we crumble under the pressure of the same consistency and predictability being demanded of us. It’s easy to expect, but not always easy to deliver. However, most often our attention is drawn to the rights that we have over others, rather than the rights that they have over us. No wonder then that we have such dysfunction in society. We tend to wait to have our rights and expectations fulfilled before we’re willing to return the favour. Everyone is waiting for that change that we all wish to see in the world, but no one is willing to offer it without an expectation of reciprocation.

    I doubt this will change my inclination to openly acknowledge all the good that people do for me when they’re doing it for me. But I also don’t think that this is entirely a bad thing, because the acknowledgement I offer may not always be verbal, but is almost always demonstrated in my sacrifices of personal comforts and time which is much more meaningful than a few spoken words, the sincerity of which can never be known. When someone does something good for us, we’re faced with a few possible reasons why they’re doing it. Either they want something in return, they have a vested interest, or perhaps they’re doing it to subtly acknowledge our worth in their life. I suspect that we rarely consider the third option, quite possibly because the superficial nature of this world has most of us inclined towards the first two as motivators for action.

  • Random thoughts

    Browsing through my archives is somewhat surreal. At times it triggers stark reminders of forgotten moments, but sometimes it feels like I’m a stranger observing a struggling soul. Looking from the outside at someone that’s trying to find their way and not quite figuring it out. It’s strange and disconcerting, but there’s a rawness in the expression of emotion in my posts that reflected a sincerity that seems to be lost these days. I feel so guarded and safe in what I express, or even what I share. It’s as if I’ve suddenly become aware of the audience. I didn’t count on having an audience before. The audience, by their very presence, has tainted my focus, my sincerity, and my courage. I’ve become an attention-whore. And I hate it.

  • Reflections on Islam as we know it

    The more I learn and experience and the more I witness with my own eyes, the more I realise that Islam is not nearly as monolithic as many would like to believe it is. Far too often I come across many sahih ahadith (authentic narrations) that are seldom quoted when I see the raging debates about whose manhaj (path) is more correct.

    These are ahadith that refer to social interactions, differing forms of worship that many are keen to dismiss as an innovation, and many other contentious issues. And it leaves me wondering how many times do we engage in ferocious debates aware of only the mainstream view of the subject without being aware of the body of knowledge that supports many alternate views?

    I’m not suggesting that we should suddenly become liberals in our tolerance of the views of others, but consider that there are over 600,000 ahadith that have been narrated. Of that amount, how many have you actually seen quoted to substantiate differing opinions of how to worship Allah? Given the number of times that I have consistently seen the scholars get it wrong regarding principles versus rituals, I’m loathe to assume that every differing view, except where it blatantly contradicts direct injunctions from the Qur’an or Sunnah, is actually a heretical view.

    The tendency for the scholars to selectively refer to principles at times and dismiss principles in favour of rituals at other times is also concerning. The issues pertaining to the sighting of the moon versus calculation of salaah times, and the use of those pagan symbols without any significant opposition by all the leading scholars is just two simple examples that I as a layman has been able to identify. Why then is it so difficult to believe that Islam is not merely what is presented by the scholars, or their blind followers that have been so effective in driving divisions in the Ummah, and even in communities?

    Recently the Islamic school that my daughter attends issued a newsletter indicating that the parents will be given the opportunity to visit the teacher to review their child’s progress. However, the meeting will commence at 09h30 and continue for the rest of the school day. This is directly aimed at encouraging mothers only to attend such discussions since most men are at work during this time, and only women from traditional Muslim homes are available. This despite the fact that all schools in the area hold parent meetings in the evenings to accommodate those parents that are in full time employment. What’s more irksome about this is that there are clear ahadith that confirm that the provision of education is the right of the father over his children. So why is the Islamic school system so mother-centric?

    This is just another example that further cements my concerns that we’re getting it wrong. We’re indulging in excessive ways and interpretations because of this perpetual focus on individual piety and we’ve completely lost the plot regarding social cohesion in Islam. We establish barriers and divisions under the guise of modesty and negate the fact that free movement and interaction with mahrams present is not outlawed. Yet we insist on husbands and wives sitting separate from each other at social gatherings because we want to pre-empt the individual actions of a few deviants. Whenever this happens, I always recall the hadith where Rasulullah (SAW) was present with Aisha (RA) at a public gathering where entertainers were performing. Rasulullah (SAW) sat there with his wife while she watched, and he turned away from the entertainment because he disliked it. (May Allah forgive me if I am quoting this incorrectly, but I will search for the original hadith as soon as I am able to, insha-Allah).

    My point is, the constant focus on individual piety, and same sex groupies is eroding the community. Women and men both play an integral part of the Muslim community, jointly, not separately. But just because we’re afraid of encouraging illicit relationships, we establish boundaries that are unnatural and disruptive to the harmony of the community, whilst the very same fitnah that we aim to prevent continues unabated.

    The very same groups where hijab is strictly enforced, separation of sexes is strictly enforced, and most women are in full niqab are the same groups where I have either witnessed first hand or heard reports from credible sources, the degradation and outright disgusting behaviour of many. This is not to suggest that they are worse than others that don’t observe such boundaries or attempts at modesty. Instead, this proves that our excessive efforts at establishing unnatural boundaries not supported by the Sunnah is in fact pointless, and quite possibly attracts ridicule towards the Sunnah rather than embedding its wisdom in the hearts of those that observe it in practice.

    We always seem to focus on excess in a negative light on those actions that are blatant innovations, but we fail to realise the excess in our actions that are intended to achieve piety. Excess of any form is forbidden for Muslims because Allah does not love excess. Yet we label those that encourage moderation, and elevate those that encourage excess in forms that are apparently above reproach.