Tag: focus

  • Elusive peace

    Elusive peace

    What brings you peace?

    If it’s likes, shares, and comments, then I’m afraid that peace escapes you too.

    Reconnecting with the human condition seems to get more difficult by the day with the filters of online life shaping our perceptions and opinions of the struggles or triumphs of others.

    Does an authentic human experience still exist in a connected world?

    Peace grows ever more elusive when connecting with others is the only soul food you have.

    They talk of dopamine and convince you that your emptiness or your fulfilment lies in chemical balances because they themselves lack the appreciation of sincere human connection.

    Appreciating the quiet moments becomes more difficult when we lose sight of the value of silence.

    The absence of clutter.

    The presence of endearing company.

    Finding peace in solitude is a gift, and a skill that appears to have been lost to the madness of this world.

    Take time to recede, to allow your very valid concerns and urgencies to suspend its calling for long enough to let the breath reach your soul.

    When last did you lose yourself in the gentle throb of your own pulse?

  • Soul food

    Soul food

    The physical form demands fulfilment, while the soul demands peace.

    Too often, we mistake the fulfilment of our physical needs to be soul food, and we neglect our soul.

    As this soul food grows familiar, we seek ever more creative ways to get that fulfilment leading us further into indulgence, and away from peace.

    Soul food is the feeling you get from an embrace with a loved one before you notice the scent of their perfume.

    It’s the sound of the dove cooing before you admire your beautiful bird bath.

    It’s the laughter of family before you notice the luxury with which you clothe them.

    Pause.

    Take a deep breath.

    Look a little closer.

    Beyond the physical.

    Look at what money can’t buy, or hands can’t manipulate, and you’ll find the divine, sublimely tucked away with the peace that you’ve been searching for, for so long…

    And remember, what feeds your soul rarely fills your belly.

    So don’t be reckless with where you seek fulfilment in your life, because you may just discover that after exhausting yourself in that pursuit for decades, you were only distracting yourself with trinkets that have no soul.

  • The Iceberg Effect

    Resilience is obstinacy in the face of adversity. It relates to our ability to resist being overwhelmed even when we face the storm alone. Facing storms alone is so much more fun anyway. It tests our limits of perseverance in ways that reveal our true strength, or at least it hints at what we are truly capable of. That wouldn’t be possible if we always had someone by our side to face the storms, because then, we’ll grow to learn how much we can bear if only we have someone to bear it with.

    We go through life chipping away at icebergs but assume that we’re carving snowmen instead. Each effort is intended to yield a specific and immediate result. Those of us that have progressed beyond our formative years realise that reality has struck no such bargain with us, so we strive a little more after each setback, knowing that success often hides behind a few setbacks, or more accurately, failures. So we give it a try, and another, and another, until eventually we give up in the belief that our energies will be better expended elsewhere.

    Giving up though, is rarely that simple. If the goal we courted was important to us in ways that would define our happiness, giving up becomes a bitter pill to swallow. But in the face of inevitable failure, we assume that it’s the only option to save our dignity. That’s when we convince ourselves that we’re building snowmen, rather than chipping away at icebergs.

    The iceberg analogy has been used to describe many positive and negative aspects about life. Quite popular in the meme culture of late is the use of the iceberg to demonstrate the pinnacle of success rising above the water, while a huge amount of effort, perseverance, and some failure rests beneath the surface that no one seems to recognise. It is not an untrue analogy either, but there is a different perspective that I believe is equally important, if not more so.

    Think of the iceberg as a problem you’re facing, but not just above or below the surface. Instead, the iceberg in its entirety represents the challenges we face in life. Now consider what happens to the bottom of the iceberg as we chip away at what we can see on the surface. Each time we shave away the top, the bottom rises a little more making it seem as if the top is never-ending. So we keep ridding ourselves of the surface layer hoping that nothing more will rise in its place, only to be presented with more each time, until eventually we grow despondent and stop chipping away.

    What we fail to recognise in that process of chipping away is that each time the top was removed, even if only a little, it made way for the underlying issues to surface, and each time the underlying issues surfaced, it reduced the weight of what was beneath the surface, out of sight, until eventually so little (if any) remained, that it made the iceberg irrelevant. What once was an iceberg suddenly becomes an ice cube.

    Being able to chip away at that iceberg would also be so much easier if we just moved it to warmer oceans instead of remaining anchored in the icy waters that sustained its creation to begin with. And that, simplistically, is how life presents its challenges to us.

    The ocean is the environment we find ourselves in, each environment having its own share of toxicity or benefit depending on what we need to take from it. Remain in the surrounds that gave rise to our problems, and our problems will continue to grow larger than we ever will be, constantly overwhelming us and convincing us that trying to prevail is futile. Change environments and suddenly our perspectives are refreshed and solutions become easier. It reminds me of the prophetic analogy of the blacksmith and the perfume merchant. Spending your day with the blacksmith will never leave you perfumed.

    Accepting our state may result in us finding comfort in the cold desolation of the confined spaces of the top of the iceberg. For some, a confined space is much more comforting  than the horror of having to venture beyond their comfort zone. In their case, icebergs are great, and so is being rooted to the spot. Unfortunately they hold others back because of the company they need on that iceberg. They become masters at making snowmen, as long as that snowman is on their iceberg.

    I often wonder how many times did I stop chipping away at some of the icebergs in my life just as the final layers may have been surfacing before I gave up and moved on to new icebergs? It’s a question that could easily test our sanity, because we rarely find out in this lifetime when giving up was the wrong thing to do. The only comfort that I find in such deliberations is in knowing that my choices to leave, to abandon, or to simply stop caring about some icebergs was a conscious choice relative to what I was willing to tolerate at that point in my life. Where I realised later that I may have given up too soon, I accepted that I would have done no differently no matter how many times I could relive that moment, because the sum total of my life’s experiences, my emotional maturity, and my awareness of what was taking place would always be the same. The only thing I could do was recognise what it was that detracted from my decision being more informed, and be sure not to overlook that aspect again in future. I think that’s how icebergs melt without us having to chip as much.

    Remaining in toxic settings, or relationships, while chipping away is often an unnecessary test of our resilience. What doesn’t kill us does not make us stronger, it only makes us more brittle. Eventually, we’ll discard opportunities that promise beauty while holding on to the remnants of what may have been simply because we focused on the iceberg, instead of the ocean.

    [This is an incomplete thought process that has plagued my mind for weeks now. Hopefully this partial expression will lead to the clarity that escapes me at this time.]

  • To Leave a Legacy

    I awoke this morning, looked at the sky, and felt the grey rain clouds descend through the skylight slowly dulling my senses. It was a good dulling. The kind that mutes out the noise and sets in the calm that prompts the mind to wander to spaces not often visited. This morning that space happened to be the contemplation of a legacy.

    As I laid in bed wondering what my legacy would be, I wondered if it was important to me. Is the desire to be remembered an indulgence of the ego, or the need for affirmation of a life well served? The cynic in me tugged at my conscience as I realised that even the need for affirmation, regardless of how well intentioned, talks to the ego more than to servitude.

    If servitude is a natural consequence, regardless of intent, is a legacy then not inevitable? As my mind spiralled down the rabbit hole I saw the patterns forming and the relationships unfolding. The distractions of how we contemplate being perceived versus how we’re perceived while contemplating it. But I avoided restraining or deliberately guiding my thoughts. Instead, I observed it as it took a shape and form of its own, similar to an out of body experience. It’s the only liberation I can afford these days.

    The questions kept tumbling out of that grey space, demanding answers, but only finding a mild curiosity in its place. I looked at the landscape before me, the beginnings of a desire to articulate a legacy, and smiled a small smile as it dawned on me. To be or not to be is not the question, instead it’s the inevitable outcome of a life lived, or not lived.

    My legacy will be my legacy regardless of how I choose to shape it, or define it. Contemplating it proves to be yet another distraction from living it. Living it, however, suggests that I have a sense of conviction in what is important to me, which if true, would mean that such contemplation would be unnecessary since my call to action rings loud and clear in my head.

    When that call is muffled or worse, silenced, I find myself contemplating more than living. At times like that I’m not failing my legacy, because my legacy cannot be betrayed. It can only be defined. Just by being, whether I choose to actively contribute or not, my legacy will be known for my contribution or my lack thereof. The fact that I am borne from a mother and not through mist means that I cannot pass through this world being unknown. Therefore, it is not possible to live a life without interruption or contribution.

    How I disrupt or contribute defines the quality of my life, and the essence of my legacy. I can go through life demanding to be known, or I can live eagerly seeking to know. Answers come to those who seek it sincerely, but I’ve rarely seen fulfilment reach those who demand it. So it makes sense to invest in curiosity as a means to inform my actions, rather than demand a reciprocation that is almost always lacking.

    Quite unexpectedly, I found myself reminded once again that this world is built for respite, not justice. My legacy therefore is not one to hold me in good stead in this world, but is intended to treat me well in the next. The paradox of life is therefore the need to serve those that directly distract us from our true purpose while maintaining a steady course to achieve it in spite of such a colourful distraction.

    Early morning thoughts can be therapeutically taxing, and what should be the calm before the day often turns out to be the storm before the distractions instead. Life is waiting to be lived. To be, that is the only sane choice for me.

  • Home

    They say home is where the heart is. Given how absent most of us are, would that make us homeless? My heart always tends to yearn for something more than it has. A moment in time, an emotional connection, or a place with a specific ambiance and scent. Whenever I get nostalgic, those are typically the scenes or memories that stir my emotions. An unexpected scent or an old tune from days long gone and often forgotten, until the nostalgic bug bites.

    In a previous post on nostalgia I was reminded of the influence and exclusion that my younger years had on shaping me into the troubled adult that I am today. We’re all troubled, but only some of us are bold enough to embrace it. It’s the troubled souls, the restless ones, the ones that hold a firm conviction that it can always be better, they are the ones that drive this world forward while the complacent remain pacified with what is, because it can always be worse. It’s odd though that in contemplating both what could be better or worse, we lose sight of what is. I think it’s then that home becomes elusive.

    Too often I’ve noticed how many around me judge themselves harshly for a moment in time when they wish they had done things differently. I used to do the same until I realised the awkward truth of such futility. It reminds me of the prophetic tradition that says that whatever came to pass would not have been avoided, and whatever was avoided would not have occurred in the first place. Quite simply, the wisdom behind this confirms that if I were to relive a moment of my life, the reality of that moment would dictate that I would not have known better, I would have felt the same emotions I did given the way my life experiences shaped me up to that point, and I would have made the same decision given the knowledge or insight I had at the time. The sum total of variables influencing that moment would always result in that moment concluding in exactly the same way.

    This prompts me to wonder why it is that we judge ourselves so harshly about a moment that is long gone, as if what we know now could have been applied then? As odd as it may seem, our egos play amazing tricks on us. The only reason I can imagine this being a necessity, if in fact it ever could be a necessity, is if we desire for the perception we created of ourselves in that moment to be changed to one we would have preferred instead. We judge ourselves harshly sometimes because we need to believe that we deserve nothing less in our present moment which makes failure that much more bearable, while at other times we do so because the sense of bitter remorse convinces us that we’re still human and not totally insensitive or impervious to the pain and suffering we may have imposed on others. However, even that has an egotistical side to it. I think subconsciously we feed our egos when we convince ourselves that we are or were capable of imposing such damage on others. It makes us more powerful. It makes us more significant.

    Who would have thought that arrogance could be reflected in failure? It’s the same arrogance that robs us of home. That place that makes us feel composed, significant, or at the least, at ease. If home is truly where the heart is, why is it that our hearts are rarely where we’re at, but is always yearning for a place, a moment, or a space that is not available to us at that point? The moment we accept that we’re home, we have that much more to lose. The stress of losing it prompts us to protect ourselves preemptively from the loss so that we don’t appear vulnerable to those around us. The more we trust them, the less likely we are to feel threatened by such vulnerability. The less we trust, the more defenses we need to keep the facade of aloofness and composure in place.

    Home, for me, has never been about a moment in time, or a place. It sometimes hinted as a connection with others, but never fully landed me in that space. Home, as elusive as it remains, is always closer to my present state than it is to my present location. The comfort I have in what I stand for, and how I subscribe to those beliefs in the face of opposition is what leaves me feeling at ease, or at odds. Nostalgia wreaks havoc with my mind when I lose sight of this. It tugs at my heart strings prompting me to want to recreate a moment in time that by definition is impossible to recreate, and in so doing, leaves me chasing dreams and fantasies while remaining oblivious to the gift of what is now.

    There is no shortage of memes or chewing gum wisdom about the gift of time and the gift of the present moment. Everyone is so busy recognising the importance of the present moment that most don’t live it. They’re still focusing on recognising it. It’s ironic that we lose most of life to reminiscing about it instead of creating new memories. Even more ironic is the fact that we often end up reminiscing about times when the gang was together and reminiscing about times when the gang was creating memories that were worth reminiscing about. (That actually is not a typo. Read it again if it doesn’t seem sensible.)

    Right there is how we lose the plot, and eventually lose our way home. Home is not a defined place. It’s the composure we feel about the space we’re in, coupled with the experiences it gave us, and the emotional growth or grounding that that offered. It’s sad that so many people spend their lives trying to recreate something they experienced at some point in the distant past. For some it’s a relationship, for others it’s a childhood memory. The only common thing between the two scenarios is that in both instances those memories were created while we weren’t focused on creating memories. Those moments formed while we were living, and not contemplating the beauty of a life that may be lived.

    For me, the idea of being home will never be fully formed in this lifetime. In fact, striving for such a fully formed experience suggests a finite end to a life that could easily extend beyond that. Suppose we actually achieve that space called home. What then? Do we stop living and start savouring? If we decide to pursue any goals beyond that point does it imply that it was not home to begin with, or does it mean we’re abandoning our home?

    Life is not finite, except when death arrives. Why then do we place so many finite constraints on it while trying to live it? Home is not where the heart is. Home is where my mind and body are at ease with the present moment. Where the past doesn’t feature, but only informs, and the future is still a jewel worth courting. If any of those cease to be true before I die, I would truly be homeless and spent, and worse than this, I will be a liability to those around me, and not a blessing. I pray that I never succumb to such futility or impotence.

  • What to do…?

    My first thought this evening when I had a quiet moment was that I should consolidate my two blogs. But I’m not sure. This blog (Ramblings of a Madman) is intended to be my ventlet about how I see the world, and what I think of people…most of the time it’s focused on people that suck! But seriously, it’s my philosophical musings about life, my experiences and all that morbid stuff, usually with a universal theme, since most of life is like that, isn’t it?

    Then there’s my other blog (The 72 Sects) that I use as a channel to share my views about Islam, and my personal struggles, challenges and frustrations as a Muslim, but often venture into expressing my appreciation for the simplicity that Islam has entrenched in my life. However, that blog is deliberately focused on Islamic matters only. 

    So I’m wondering if there’s merit in combining the two into this blog, or is it more purposeful and effective to keep them separate? 

    Someone help me figure this out please? 🙁

  • Question – The Distracted Ummah

    eatandbeawesome answered your question: The Distracted Ummah

    i think the most appropriate way to approach this is to bring about a change in one’s own life, which in turn will affect those around us.

    I agree with you completely. The danger is trying to find a balance between this individual piety that seems to be preached by the conservatives, whilst maintaining a balanced and responsible view of our accountability towards our families and communities. Being grounded and self-conscious but knowing when to speak out against what is wrong. It gets even more difficult when we see our elders and contemporary scholars also towing the sectarian lines and the abrasive condescension. 

    Alhamdulillah, it seems we definitely live in a time when holding onto Iman is like juggling hot coals on our hands. 

  • Habitual Distractions

    There are times when I feel like receding into a more simpler state of life. I reminisce about times gone by when things seemed easier, and life felt less complicated. But just as soon as I start taunting myself with these selective recollections, I realise that that is all it is. Selective memories of what felt good, or not so bad. If life really was simpler back then, it’s only because I lacked the realisation of what was really happening in my life and around me, and not because it was any easier.

    The more I learn about myself, and especially others, the more complicated life gets. And since I can’t unlearn it all, I can’t see it getting any simpler either. That got me thinking about habits this morning. Hardly seems like there’s a connection between the two but I realised that if it weren’t for the blessing of habits, I’d constantly be distracted by the mundane. But when the mundane becomes habit, it frees up my conscious state of mind to focus on what’s really important. And when what’s really important is daunting and seemingly insurmountable, that’s when I slip into the state of morbidity that makes me yearn for the distractions of the mundane without the burden of real life attached to it.

    Life, by its very definition, will not get easier. I can try to keep it less complicated, but the only way it can become simpler is if I grow oblivious to all that I’ve learnt already. I’d rather not. There’s too much beauty and wisdom that I paid a heavy price to experience and acquire that would be lost in the process.