Tag: individuality

  • A Pause

    A pause from futility. Does it make the pause fruitful or futile? Futility is the state of a jaded mind. It’s the mind that looks at a happy moment, recognises its ephemeral nature and waits patiently for it to pass, while taking comfort from being right about its passing. Does it make that mind jaded, or realistic?

    The irony of life is that it passes us by while contemplating it, yet we miss important moments if we don’t. Striking the balance is elusive, as those that stop to contemplate are left behind by the incessant pace of the crowd. The crowd, distracted by their togetherness, fail to notice the passing scenery. While sitting and reflecting, the introspective one looks at the crowd and yearns for such inclusion, but in the moments that the crowd pauses to take a breath, a solitary soul chasing the inclusion looks beyond the crowd and wishes for the apparent peace on the face of the introspective one.

    There are those that chase without thought or contemplation. Driven by a need to feel progress while simultaneously anxious about being left behind. They don’t pause, they don’t breathe, they just chase. They draw strength from the crowd and in turn they feed the momentum that carries them along. Because they don’t pause, or breathe, they never realise that it is them that create that which they chase.

    Human connections develop while we’re chasing similar things. Those that go out in search of it rarely find it. The introspective ones are often left wandering, while the crowd incestuously lunges on.

    Is sanity defined by acceptance, or the recognition of rejection? Does assimilation require a suspension of sanity, or does it breed insanity? Leading a solitary life, introspective by design, and restless by nature, the introspective one finds themselves in choppy waters when the crowd grows weary of the chase, and suddenly chases the pause. What was once cause for isolation becomes cause for inclusion. The crowd seeks the pause, while those that breathed deeply until now surrender their breath in favour of the elusive inclusion that suddenly teases their senses.

    The sway from both sides slowly find harmony, but when left unbridled, they eventually pass each other, outstretched nails clawing at the other, hoping to hold on to that which they pursued, but finding their misguided momentum too much to restrain, slowly finding themselves adrift, again. The crowd floating in a sea of debris, sharing tales with each other about how much more beautiful it was when they were young, spawn a generation of repulsion at their indulgence.

    The new ones set out searching for a pause, but find themselves surrounded by the clutter of what went before. Inherited debris of an indulgence that was not theirs to enjoy, they grow impatient, searching for their allotment of indulgence, but finding none. Rebellion is the only option, but even rebellion is aimed at achieving something. That something can only take form after growing aware of what is needed, and what is needed is only visible to those who contemplate. Suddenly the introspective are in vogue, and the crowd is dispersed, only to form a different motion.

    This time the motion sways more purposefully, spawned by a pause, not by a lunge, it takes on a less indulgent hue, and instead aims to offer before it consumes. Each has its own time. The consumerism of some breed purpose for others. Without the crowd, a moment of pause will hold less meaning. Without that moment of pause, the crowd with have no purpose.

    Sometimes in our struggles for balance, perhaps that balance becomes elusive because we’re struggling. Do we struggle because we’re distracted, or because we’re desperate to achieve an end whose nature conflicts with our circumstances? Should we change our circumstances before we set out to conquer, or are circumstances changed because of what we conquer?

    There is no composed end to this thought process. So let this be a cryptic start to end a cryptic past, or not.

  • Question – The Distracted Ummah

    naziafk answered your question: The Distracted Ummah

    🙁 you know, i just went to makkah and came back a month ago alhumdullillah. i was one of those people who took a pic there. i felt hesitant.

    Alhamdulillah. I know how tempting it can be. To put my post into context, that was my experience more than 10 years ago, so it’s expected that things have gotten progressively worse since then, let alone the indulgence in materialism around the precinct of the Ka’aba. So I guess squeezing off a single photo with hesitation will hopefully earn you Allah’s pleasure for resisting the temptation to succumb to the urge completely. Insha-Allah your efforts have been accepted. Ameen. 🙂

  • The Distracted Ummah

    A few more memories surfaced after my last post about my visit to the Haramain in Makkah and Madinah, leaving me somewhat disillusioned about the state of Muslims today. Here’s a few experiences from that same first visit of mine that you may or may not find disturbing. 

    I was making tawaaf one evening with a surprisingly small crowd, when I passed by two young ladies also making tawaaf. Only difference is that they were taking a leisurely stroll around the Ka’aba with designer handbags slung fashionably over their shoulders. I don’t recall clearly if they were also absorbed in conversation or not, but focused on tawaaf they definitely appeared not to be.

    Before I could fully absorb this scene and while trying to turn my gaze away from them, a young man passed me by. He was tall, very well groomed, sporting a really fashionably shaped beard, gelled up hair, and had his cell phone firmly pressed against his ear while also performing his tawaaf. That just seemed wrong on so many levels, it left me really sad.

    Fortunately this was set aside by the sight of a woman in full niqab performing tawaaf, and suddenly jerking to a stop at the fear of accidentally touching a male that was walking in front of her. The man was obviously oblivious to others walking around him, but the motion of her hand that clearly indicated her concern and restraint remains clearly imprinted in my mind whenever I think about that moment. It had all the hallmarks of piety and modesty captured in a single gesture. Whether that reflected her true character or not is really irrelevant to me. But if I had to choose between the three incidents, the latter is definitely the one that reminded me of Allah, while the other two made me cringe.

    Then there was the time that I was walking through the souk in Madinah just after Dhuhr salaah, gaze firmly fixed on the ground in front of me as is my habit when walking in public (mostly out of shyness rather than modesty). Suddenly, from the side of me, I heard this deep throated grunt, quickly succeeded by this gob of discoloured mucus being spat out in front of me in the middle of the walkway, followed by a single flowing motion of the culprit stepping on it and spreading it wafer thin into the pathway as if that eliminated its disgusting presence. It was art in motion. Disgusting art at that.

    I won’t even go into the details of the woman that defecated on Mount Arafat at the time of Hajj a few years ago, as described by someone I knew that attended Hajj that year. Or so many other disgusting images and actions of impiety and filth practised openly by Muslims of all walks of life, and of all nations that I have no doubt that this is not restricted to any specific sect, or madhab, nor do I have any reason to believe any group is immune to this behaviour either.

    I look at many posts on Tumblr where people are sharing intriguing photos, often in real time, about their visit to the Ka’aba, and I wonder how far gone we really are that we can be standing in the single holiest place on earth, and instead of taking advantage of that nearness to Allah by focusing on dua and istighfaar, instead we’re thinking about looking cool and sharing cool photos with others, and wondering where we’re going to find that really cool gift for ourselves or someone back home. 

    The point I’m trying to make is that if we bothered to step away from our social networks for long enough, we’ll realise that the problems with the Ummah run far deeper than differing opinions about rituals, or sects formed by misguided zealots in the name of some innocent scholar. The real problem with the Ummah is that we’ve lost our self-respect, let alone the respect of what is sacred in Islam. We’re so distracted that we assume that our ability to focus on a single distraction at a time is in fact meritorious, forgetting that we’re actually still distracted from what’s important. 

    Look closer to home. Look in the masjid and see how many men of all ages engage in laughter, loud conversation and worldly distractions while waiting for salaah. It’s gotten so bad that at the place where I regularly perform Dhuhr salaah close to the office, some elderly men continue talking right through the Iqamah and only stop when the Imam begins the salaah. 

    So we really should stop trying so hard to focus on rectifying everyone else and convincing everyone else that we’re the only rightly guided ones because we ascribe to the sect that is closest to the correct path, while completely forgetting our manners, modesty, respect, dignity and so many other basic virtues that far outweigh our ability or responsibility to refute the opinions of the ill-informed in ways that expose our own arrogance and pride. 

    This post drips of the same condescension, rhetoric and generalisations that I despise hearing in the Friday khutbahs. But it’s not intended that way. It really is just reflective of how overwhelming the reality of this is when I consider the futile debates about theoretical perspectives while we’re holding on to our faith through token reference points that appease our conscience only, leaving us wondering in agony why our duas rarely appear to be answered.