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  • Ramblings…

    I sometimes think that we need less religion and more faith. Less people and more humanity. I should stop before I turn this into an annoying post that goes on ad nauseum about clever comparisons of oh so enlightening opposites. 

    We probably need less cynics and more sincerity as well, I guess. But everyone’s trying to be a Rumi or Plato or Ghandi, and nobody tries to be themselves, because we’re all so focused on being unique individuals…just like everyone else. Hmmm, and we’re also always generalising our negative perceptions so that it doesn’t feel so bad to have them because we convince ourselves that everyone else is just as screwy in the head. 

    My thoughts are tiring. Almost as tiring as human nature. The fickleness and frailties of the human soul are no longer endearing to me. I now find it annoyingly cliched. Everyone is struggling. Everyone is in pain or distress or dis-ease. So much so, that a normal person that is truly optimistic and genuinely carefree is almost uplifting…almost, because I can’t help but wonder if they have all their faculties in good order to find reason to be this way in a world full of crap. Look at your dash and count how many posts has people using the words heart, soul, life, death and other similar philosophical triggers before you dismiss my cynicism as being that of a jaded old man. 

    Death to the cynics, dammit! 

  • Looking for Inspiration

    I once walked into a yard that sold raw materials like natural stone and treated timber that I was looking at for a DIY project I had feeble intentions of building. When the owner approached me, I simply smiled and said, “I’m just looking for inspiration.” He laughed and walked away. I often set out wanting to do something, having an idea, or sometimes just a concept in my head, and then letting it dwell in the back of my mind waiting for inspiration to strike. Sometimes, it comes from nowhere, but recently, it hardly comes at all.

    I’ve enjoyed only bursts of energy and enthusiasm recently, with the days in between being real challenges. This afternoon I set back and wondered how many others become complacent about their misery by convincing themselves that if anyone else had been contending with what they have to deal with, they’d fall to pieces or kill themselves. I’m guilty of the same self-destructive smugness. I look at the problems of a teenager reeling from the betrayal of lustful love threatening never to love again, and wanting to destroy herself and everyone in the process, and I smile. That same smug smile that leads to me forgetting how relative everything is. Just because I’ve endured more in quantity doesn’t imply that the intensity of my agony was any greater than hers. 

    But I need this insensitive comparison to make myself feel better about my own self-loathing. I sway from being convinced that I deserve nothing better to knowing that I’m just too amazing to be discovered by mediocre meddlers. But that’s really what many people are. Meddlers. They meddle in various aspects of their lives, looking for inspiration, but never committing to anything because they’re waiting for someone to appreciate them first. The excess we commit in our natural disposition as social beings is in our penchant for wanting to feel loved before we love, being appreciated before we express gratitude, or receiving before we consider giving. 

    I heard someone say today that a veil exists between this world and heaven. I think that our struggles, our principled endeavours and our consistent striving towards our noble ambitions is what tears away at that veil. If you don’t believe in heaven, then consider that veil to be all that prevents you from achieving your utopian ideals, whatever they may be. My search for inspiration will never abate. But it will be more joyous if accompanied by one that cools my eyes, but warms my spirit. So I wait patiently, living with conviction, but no expectations, only hope that some day soon my garment will arrive in all her splendour to finally caress the dreams I so painstakingly nurture to keep the jaded me at bay.

  • Confused Thoughts…Strange Experiences

    A long many years ago I was approached by an old man that I didn’t know. It was after Isha salaah at a mosque that I didn’t frequent very often since it was outside of my neighbourhood. I must have been around 18 or 19 at the most at the time. Anyway, this man started chatting to me about a Shaykh at a local mosque not far from where we were, and he kept insisting that I should go there to become a mureed. I didn’t know what a mureed was, but I assumed it was a student or something. I disagreed with the concept and just nodded my head respectfully without any intention of following through.

    Many years before that, I was playing in our garden when I was still a child, and I saw a very old man with a thick white beard, very long, enter our yard. I don’t recall him talking to me, and I don’t recall anyone else being around either, but the lingering memory of that experience was a pile of white hair from his beard that was trimmed at the tap in our front garden. It just lay there almost dissolving away in the running water without anyone making a fuss of it. He disappeared. It never made sense, and still doesn’t.

    I once had a dream of strange over-sized chandeliers threatening to fall on me when I was trying to cross a road to get to my aunt’s house. I was scared. I kept dodging the path of the chandeliers that seemed to move along cables that my aunt controlled with some gadget she had in her hand. All this took place close to a farm town of which I have many fond memories from my childhood years. I don’t recall ever knowing the outcome of that dream. I was a child when I had that dream, but the imagery is still very vivid. Many years later, after I started working, I went to a local mosque close to where I worked, and saw chandeliers of almost exactly the same design suspended from a triple volume ceiling. I could never stop staring at those chandeliers whenever I visited that mosque over the years that I worked in that area. 

    Recently, I made acquaintance with some very intriguing personalities. The entire mureed issue came up again. I was exposed to some unfortunate experiences, and in seeking assistance to overcome it, I discovered that I could determine many interesting facts behind the incidents without having any real knowledge about them. A recognised and respected local Amil (one who is recognised as being gifted to be in touch with the spiritual world with which ‘normal’ people are unable to interact and who has the knowledge and ability to rid one of Jinn, Sihr, etc.) shared his insights with me about the conditions around my situation, and nothing he told me was news to me. This happened again with someone else. On both occasions, I shrugged off the suggestions that I apparently have a gift that puts me in touch with these unspoken facts, for lack of a better phrase.  

    I always went through life believing that my instinct about others was based on my acute sense of observation, which I honestly believed was a result of my introverted nature that allows me to recede into the shadows while observing the behaviours of others. I thought that this allowed me insight into the human psyche that most are too distracted to notice. I’m not so sure that this is the reason any more. 

    By the way, all my ‘instincts’ about the people around me in those trying circumstances that I experienced proved to be accurate either through the uncovering of evidence that confirmed it, or through actual admissions on the part of those that I believed were implicated in the under-handed dealings. So once again, I’m faced with the choice of choosing to be a mureed, which I am still not comfortable with, or potentially exposing myself to harm (if any of the research I’ve done is anything to go by) by not aligning with a shaykh/scholar, usually of the Sufi path. 

    I’m opposed to excessive interpretations of anything, regardless of madhab or sect or whatever. So the same prevents me from pledging allegiance to a specific shaykh in my endeavour to acquire more knowledge about this path that I’m on. But part of this aversion to excess is my inclination not to want to dismiss everything about any group just because some of their practices are questionable. This is a confusing space that I’m in, but I feel as if I’m on the brink of a spiritual journey that could greatly influence the rest of my life. This is truly a ramble, and isn’t nearly as cathartic as I hoped it would be. (I hate that word, ‘cathartic’. It sounds so superficial!).

    That there is a significant amount of mysticism entangled in Islamic knowledge is of no doubt. The advices in numerous ahadith to recite various verses or names of Allah towards healing people through unconventional means proves that there is merit in this way that I am being exposed to. The challenge is trying to determine how much of that skill is blameworthy as taught by the Jinn to man, versus how much of it can be used to benefit man. This is all very confusing. May Allah guide me in this troubled time towards the best outcome, Insha-Allah.

  • Some Muslims on Tumblr…Disappointing :'(

    I’ve found, disappointingly so, that many of my fellow Muslim bloggers have turned out to be insincere and arrogant. Especially many of those that are outwardly and in-your-face religiously pious. I genuinely try to engage with many of them in a meaningful manner so that we can really dissect some important issues and perhaps expose a different perspective on things, but instead, the moment I go against the norm and question sacredly-held scholars, I’m dismissed or just totally ignored.

    On the contrary, I’ve found that my engagements with non-Muslims are often more sincere since they would often extend themselves to really heartily debate an issue, and only after some interesting exchanges would we tend to agree to disagree, or arrive at a point of understanding. And this is on contentious issues like atheism versus theism, morality, homosexuality, premarital relationships, religion, politics and the like.

    Unfortunately we lack maturity needed to engage meaningfully amongst Muslims, because every debate is hinged around a single focal point. i.e. You’re either in agreement with my scholar, or you’re a deviant. This is disheartening, because a few months ago I made a decision to try to engage more with Muslims on Tumblr, and instead of finding solace and familiarity, I found bickering and condescension.

    Really sad state. 🙁

  • I once held this naive notion that underneath everything and anything, there was a discernible purity that nothing could displace. I thought that if you could only peel back our layers, no matter how thick and crude they may be, we were all just luminous and waxy, glowing under moonlight. I believed that we were all multi-faceted crystals that caught spectrums of light behind our teeth and in the reflection of our slippery limbs.
    Was I wild to think that we were all just bewildered angels? Was I mad to think that we had only misplaced our wings? I believed that if you stripped us all down to our core, to the marrow within our marrow, in the vast expanse of our atoms, int he galaxies within our protons — we’d be explosions of light. Blinded by these colors of reality, we can’t see past them to get to the soul of all that is, all that was, all that remains to be. We’re all tendrils of hope in open palms, and only we hold the light that can keep the darkness at bay. But yet, we stare at the world and can’t get past the surface to see what it truly is: teeming, breathing, pulsing.
    Believe me when I tell you that there’s more to this world than what meets the eye — that if you stare long enough into the eye of a rose, you’ll see the blood of its petals bleed int our veins. Believe me when I tell you that the beauty that you so wish you can witness surrounds you, engulfs you, is you. Let me hold your writhing soul in my palms so I can kiss those lights, so blindingly beautiful, and strip away your shadow of flesh. Let me show you where your wings have been clipped, how your chest is bursting with wildflowers, how your breath is the sigh of god. Let me read you the stories of our lives in these petals.

    the cinnamon peeler’s wife:

     

  • seinedoll replied to your post: Personal Reflections

    Cheer up please! Everything is in your head.

    🙂 thanks…it is mostly in my head…except for the weight gain! That’s definitely not in my head! I decided tonight that I’ll write the story of me…if not for any reason other than the hope that it will lighten the burden of the realities that I hold inside that have yet to be shared with anyone around me. 

    Time will tell…the ghosts of lifetimes past never quite leave. They just saunter around in the shadows waiting for a moment of weakness or a lull in your spirits, before they surge straight through you, leaving you bewildered, without any trace of their presence, except the hints of remorse, regret, hope and most often, disbelief. Disbelief at how sincere naivety could be ridiculed as stupidity because I lacked the faculties to be suspicious. Bah!

    The greatest challenge has never been about moving forward. That’s easy. The difficulty lies in trusting that others will receive your efforts positively so that you can realise those goals that will provide the much needed comfort and companionship. But when most are inclined to judge without knowledge, the most noble of endeavours, or even the greatest of achievements fade into a heap of social worthlessness that threatens to disembowel you had it not been for the fact that such social appraisals are inconsequential to your sanity. 

    But sanity isn’t much to celebrate at times when it’s not able to be shared. And this is turning out to be far too morbid, so it’s time for me to shut it. 🙂

  • Personal Reflections

    I’ve realised recently that I’ve been distracted. These distractions have worn me down to a point of almost total lethargy and painful effort to do almost anything constructive. I’ve succumbed to the same self-defeating tendencies that I’ve always encouraged others to simply snap out of. Worse still is that I realise that this is what I’m doing, yet I lack any significant motivation to change it.

    I’ve put on weight to the point where my clothes are uncomfortable and my body aches from the awkwardness of being out of proportion. Compensating for the shift in my centre of gravity is causing my back to ache leaving me feeling as if I should be preparing for old age. Death has been a constant thread in my thought patterns, but not morbidly so. Just the realisation of how much will continue regardless of my absence, and who would be left abandoned in some way or another as a result of my untimely departure. 

    None of this is outwardly visible of course, with the exception of the obvious weight gain. The headaches are more frequent, the joints almost groan involuntarily and my fingers ache. They actually ache as if they’re under constant strain or as if I’ve jammed them into a door. All of these aches and pain remind me that I’m suppressing my true nature because I’ve grown too weary and jaded to venture into another battlefield not knowing how I’ll fare. 

    I’ve been seriously contemplating writing that novel, or at least starting with a short story titled The Story of Me. The more I think of it the more I realise how much there is to write about. There isn’t time to finish these thoughts. There’s rarely time to finish anything these days. But somehow I’ve managed to hold it all together and be productive at the same time. But very little of it has been a true joy. Although I refuse to make it feel like a total burden either. 

    I recently planned a weekend away to one of the most beautiful parts of the country, but cancelled at the last minute because I didn’t have the energy to make the 5 hour drive to get there. This from a man that used to drive 16 hours straight with only fuel stops and accompanied by nothing but his own thoughts and a simple appreciation for the beautiful landscapes on the journey. 

    I’ve grown old without realising it. I feel like I’m 90, battle fatigued, and waiting for peace. 

  • Begin with Yourself

    nowandthehereafter:

    A man went to Ibn ‘Abbas radiAllaahu ‘anhu and said, “O Ibn ‘Abbas, I want to enjoin people to do good and forbid them from doing evil.” Ibn ‘Abbas said, “And have you reached that level?” He said, “I hope that that is so.” He said, “If you do not fear to be exposed by three verses of Allah’s Book, then do so.” The man asked, “And what are they?” He mentioned this verse:

    Enjoin you Al-Birr (piety and righteousness and each and every act of obedience to Allâh) on the people and you forget (to practise it) yourselves.” (Baqarah 2:44)

    And then asked, “Have you applied the implications of this verse?” He said, “No.” Ibn ‘Abbas then mentioned the second verse:

    O you who believe! Why do you say that which you do not do? Most hateful it is with Allâh that you say that which you do not do. (As-Saff 61:2-3)

    After that he asked, “Have you applied the implications of this verse?” He said, “No.” He then mentioned the third verse regarding Shu’aib alayhi salaam:

    “I wish not, in contradiction to you, to do that which I forbid you.” (Hud 11:88)

    And then he asked, “Have you applied the implications of this verse? He said, “No.” Ibn ‘Abbas said, “Then begin with yourself.”