Category: Uncategorized

  • On this day of Jumu’ah it will be my second Friday in which I will deliberately avoid attending salaah at my local masjid, and instead, go to another not far from me because it is one of the few mosques in the area that is not embellished with those pagan symbols. I used to be regularly stationed in the first row right in front of the mimbar at Jumu’ah time, and I wonder if my absence will even be noted?

    Wondering about that gives me fleeting feelings of insincerity, which is one of the reasons why I stopped attending the local masjid for salaah. I know that as a matter of principle, I cannot on one hand object to the placement of the pagan symbols on the masjid, and on the other continue to attend salaah with congregation just because I don’t want people in the community to think less of me. I stay four doors away from the masjid, so this is even more difficult than usual. 

    So I’ll carve my niche in the first row of another masjid where I’m not known personally and pray that they don’t also decide at some point to decorate their structure with that vile moon and star combination that has come to represent the ritualistic stupour of Muslims around the world. Even the Haram in Makkah and Madinah is defaced with those symbols without even a peep from the Ummah. 

    Reminds me of the hypocrisy of the masses in the Arab Spring! Chanting Allahu-Akbar with every rocket and every bullet fired, and then demanding a secular government! So let’s bow our heads in prayer when worshiping Allah, raise our hands to recite the takbeer, and then prostrate beneath a dome that is adorned with the symbol of Diana, goddess of the hunt, often accompanied by her fellow kaafir King Richard whose star is also emblazoned across the flags of many a ‘Muslim’ nation. 

    Seems we’re an Ummah of Muslims, but not many Mu’min’s. May Allah save me from complacency and excess in this matter. 

  • When I was younger I used to be quite the loner, and still am like that on most days. I used to go ‘out’ on my own and stay out till late just mingling in crowds where I was the odd one out, or barely being noticed. And it felt that way when I was around people and when I was home.

    I remember on one occasion when I was at a friend’s house, his brother had been away for an extended time without any contact which sent his family into a panic. On that particular day my younger brother was with me when he looked at me and said, “See? That’s how everyone panics when you come home so late without telling anyone where you are.”

    I don’t think I said anything in return, and I don’t know why I’m suddenly reminded of this. But the one thought that did occur to me right now is that despite him saying that, I still didn’t think I was significant enough for anyone to give a damn about where I was or when I’ll be back. They fussed about me from time to time, but they rarely did anything with me. And I wonder how many others feel equally neglected but loved at the same time? It’s a weird feeling. 

    I guess being told you’re important or significant or part of a family or social circle is one thing, but having reason to believe that there’s a genuine interest in what you like, what you want, and what really interests you is a love of a different kind that is needed even more. I think we get this kind of love from partners or love interests in the early stages of a relationship, but when it dwindles, when that interest in us dwindles, despite the professions of undying love, we withdraw because suddenly we’re just as significant as family. And everyone knows we take family for granted, because they’re family, right?

    But we don’t want to be ‘family’ to the one we allow into that sacred space of fragility. When we allow someone in there, we expect them to worship us, but not smother us…they must hang on every word we say, but have something interesting to say themselves. They must need us, but not be needy or clingy or parasitic. We must be the centre of their universe, but they must give us space. 

    We’re an odd bunch, aren’t we? Or am I again a loner in feeling this way?

  • Even the most cherished heart, if left without a home, will die of exposure.

    (c) Cynically Jaded

    Phuket, Thailand (October 2009)

  • Believe in me…not!

    People don’t want to be believed in. They want to be pitied. Your pity for them reaffirms their victim state because they need to believe that they’re downtrodden because no one else would’ve dealt any better with what they’re contending with. When you believe in them, you expect them to rise up and become a master of their state rather than a victim.

    So instead, they’ll scowl at you for not understanding, for undermining their heartache or anguish, and for thinking you’re better than them or that you just don’t get it at all. All this because they need to hide behind the facade of being able to survive in spite of this massively overwhelming burden of life being placed on them. That way, they feel like they’re strong because they’re still alive and have pathetic remnants of hope for the future, when in fact they’re weak and are only existing and surrounding themselves with like-minded people that will stroke their egos and affirm their resilience because they haven’t thrown in the towel yet.

    But despite knowing this, you’ll be bold enough (read dumb enough!) to believe in them because you see through their defenses simply because you employed those very same defenses at some point, and their true strength is visible to you like the light of day but hidden from them because of the daunting decay of society. So you believe, and you invest emotionally and sometimes physically into that belief in them, and instead they rebel…they deny and despise your efforts because you’re not giving them what they want…you’re not telling them what they want to hear.

    And that sends you into a state of despair and suddenly you’re the victim of the weakness that you tried to help them to overcome. And suddenly you’re questioning your self-worth, your significance, your ability to influence…and you recede…not realising that receding is giving up and not necessarily accepting. But at some point we all give up. Sometimes on life, sometimes on living…and sometimes on existing. And then someone comes along and believes in us, and we strike back thinking what the hell do they know? Do they have any idea what I’ve just been through? How I’ve just been rejected in the harshest way? Do they know anything at all, or do they need to believe in me so that they can feel significant in their quest to touch someone else’s life in the hope that it would bring meaning to their own? How pathetic they are for thinking that they have what it takes to convince me that I am wrong about my conscious choice to recede. Do they not know how much I know about why I shouldn’t believe anymore?

  • Jaded is when you look at once beautiful photos of landscapes and no longer see the landscape but instead you see the pretentious motivation behind the photographer capturing the scene in the hope to impress those that s/he shares it with. 

  • wetcoke:

    islamicthinking:

    “Don’t be sad, Allah is with us”

    for my nametwin.

    (Source: http://forthesakeofallah.tumblr.com/post/4912025801/dont-be-sad-allah-is-with-us-9-40)

  • (Source: http://spiritualinspiration.tumblr.com/post/11610851312/www-getoutthebox-org)

  • (Source: http://spiritualinspiration.tumblr.com/post/11610851312/www-getoutthebox-org)