Tag: random thoughts

  • Similarity Between Light and Prayer

    I’ve often tried to explain my views about destiny, or fate as many like to call it. In a recent conversation with a friend, we touched on the subject of prayer and it led me to again consider my views about the purpose of prayer if destiny is supposedly pre-written in line with the mainstream views of destiny. In other words, is my fate sealed because the outcomes have been decided regardless of my actions, or are we simply missing the point? That’s when the similarities between prayer and a typical beam of light occurred to me.

    A normal beam of light will simply light up an object, whereas a slightly more intense beam of light will possibly heat it up. Yet an even more intense beam of light could change the shape of the object, or even cut through the object, if not entirely incinerate the object. So it stands to reason that just existence of something is not necessarily a finite definition of its purpose or impact.

    I think the same is true with prayer. If said lightly and without conviction, it serves a limited purpose, if any at all, like those solar powered garden lights that light up nothing more than the casing in which they exist. For the same reason, I believe the prayer of the oppressed person is so much more powerful, because the oppressed person usually turns to Allah at a point when they’ve given up reliance on anything and anyone else. So the intensity, sincerity and conviction with which they pray results in it triggering those effects that Allah has already ‘configured’ in this universal law that governs our existence, often referred to as fate, or destiny, or taqdeer. Hence there being no need for Allah to directly intervene, because these laws that Allah has established already intervenes simply because Allah said ‘Be’, and it is. So trust that handhold that you have with Allah, and stop doubting it. The doubts weaken our prayer while the trust strengthens it.

  • Prayer vs Life

    I’ve often thought of the difference between salaah and life as being similar to our experiences in the school assembly. When we were in school standing in the assembly area waiting for the principal to address us, I used to take comfort in the fact that I was among a crowd and therefore not the centre of attention. I didn’t really worry about the principal seeing my shirt hanging out of my pants, or my hair being dishevelled, or perhaps that I was chewing gum. But if for some reason the principal called out my name and asked me to go to the front and meet him at the podium, I would suddenly find myself in a panic stricken state straightening my shirt, neatening my hair and trying to get rid of the gum I was chewing. Suddenly, the need to comply with the behaviour and standards that he set for us became important, but only because I knew he was now looking directly at me, which meant I was no longer hidden by the crowd.

    That, to me, is the equivalent of our daily lives relative to the moments we take for salaah. While we’re going about our daily business, we’re among the crowd, distracted by the activities we’re chewing on and forgetting that our actions are still as visible as always to Allah, unlike the principal that could only ever focus on a single student at a time. But when we make salaah, if we do it consciously and not out of habit or ritual, we immediately become aware of the fact that we’re now specifically presenting ourselves to Allah and not just existing in Allah’s general presence (so to speak). But if we don’t see this difference in purpose and focus, it becomes difficult to feel different towards our connection with Allah in salaah compared to out of salaah. In other words, the chances of us contaminating our salaah with thoughts of the daily grind are that much higher.

    I think if we are able to hone our focus during salaah, we’ll find that your focus on the detail of life outside of salaah will also improve. I think such a shift in focus will lead to an overall improved disposition resulting in a more mindful existence where every action and every deed becomes an act of worship, not because we do it in Allah’s name, but because we will then be able to go beyond that simple realisation and in fact link our actions with our desired state in the hereafter.

    There is nothing that we do that doesn’t either bring us closer to Allah, or take us further away from Him. When we assume that there are some actions that are neutral in all this, that’s when we’ll find ourselves drifting away without realising it, until we’re jolted out of our complacency (usually because of a trial or tribulation that interrupts our daydream) before we realise that that supposedly harmless action or endeavour was in fact detrimental to our faith.

  • Quotes I live by, but can’t remember who said them…

    There are a few quotes that often ring in my mind as I go through various experiences in life, but more often than not, I can never recall where I read or heard them. Some of my favourites include:

    “If you knew me the way I know myself, you’d throw sand in my face” ~ some or other Muslim scholar, but I can’t recall who it was.

    “There is no limit to what a man can do if he doesn’t care who gets the credit for it” ~ I don’t have a clue where this one comes from.

    “Why acquire more knowledge if you’re not practising on the knowledge you already have” ~ I think this was said by Al-Ghazali, but I could be mistaken.

    “Repeating the same behaviour and expecting a different outcome is the definition of insanity” ~ I suspect that this is just a really bad paraphrase of what Einstein may have said.

    “If you compare a sane man to an insane society, he will appear insane” ~ I think this was some guy with a French name, but I’m too lazy to Google it right now.

    “Pervasive ignorance must not be mistaken for collective wisdom” ~ Yours Truly.

    “If you don’t take control of your own life, someone else will” ~ I just made that one up.

    And obviously when I sit down to share some of these quotes my mind will go blank…

  • I Hate Skinny Jeans

    It’s been a while since I felt an inclination to post any reflective thoughts about my current state. I’m 100% primed for a mid-life crisis right now, but it seems like the only crisis I’m managing to acquire quite successfully is a mid-drift one. My chest is still pretty much where it used to be for the most of my life, so I’m quite comfortable that this is not a case of having a drop-chest. I’ve accepted that I am firmly part of the horizontally challenged brigade that still struggle to squeeze into their jeans of yesteryear. However, the situation is not as dire, nor as disgusting as it may sound.

    I have a very simple philosophy when it comes to maintaining my weight over the years. I’ve reached a point where my pants’ size is as big as I would ever want it to go, and I’ve been convinced of this for many years now. So each time when I feel it getting really uncomfortably tight around my waist, I know that’s a sure sign that I need to shed some baby fat. Incidentally, it turns out that baby fat is not as cute on a grown man. So the simple philosophy really just says that when my pants get too tight, instead of buying a bigger size and giving in to the bulge, I make a concerted effort to lose weight instead. My tolerance level to put up with that discomfort has obviously grown, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m only maintaining my pants size because of my anatomy extending over the belt line, rather than being constrained by it?

    Ok, enough of the disturbing mental imagery and on to the real point of this post. Going shopping for new jeans (of the same size I might add), has turned into quite a frustrating chore because of the insistence by retailers to shove all men (including us real ones) into that girlish designs that suggest that skinny jeans look good on real men. It doesn’t. It never did, and it never will. A man that wears a skinny jeans is probably a man that is either still living with his mother (for her to take care of him and not the other way around), or a man that gets his nails polished and has facial products to keep his skin looking soft and youthful. I hate skinny jeans. Especially for men. And I hate men that pamper themselves as if they’re women. We have more women than men in this world, literally and figuratively, so give it a rest already. Try being a man for a change. You’ll be surprised at how refreshing that can be. And no, being a slob doesn’t mean you’re a man, it just means you’re a slob. Usually a blob of a slob, now that I think of it.

    Shopping at several local retailers has proven that there is a pervasive assumption that men want to wear what women wear. I’m old school and proud of it. I yearn for a time when men were men and women were women, and each had equitable roles, and chivalry was still admired. But the feminists and the apologists will not allow such wholesomeness to survive, so they decided to force men into bootlegged jeans, skinny fit everything, straight leg jeans, low rise jeans, and everything but REGULAR FIT jeans! What happened to the good old regular fit? I don’t want some fanboy designer look. I simply want a comfortable pair of jeans that will allow me to do the chores around the house without having to shift my jewels back in place after each movement because of the feminine crotch that someone thought would be a good idea on a man’s jeans. It disgusts me to say the least, and physically pains me at best.

    No wonder we have such a dysfunctional society. Men are trying to prove that they’re as sassy and polished as women, and women are trying to prove that they’re equal to men. Neither are comfortable being their natural selves any longer except when they’re alone in their homes without any social stigmas to comply with or judging eyes to appease. All this is blatantly reflected in our children when they develop that vacuous mentality that allows only for self-promotion and a desperation for affirmation, while believing that any challenge is a reason to be diagnosed with a mental illness because the support structure that should be there to guide them through the insanity of adolescence is suddenly replaced with self-centred adults trying to compete with their children in appearance and social status resulting in social ills that leave even anarchists cringing with fear.

    Seriously. Can someone simply point me to a retailer that stocks men’s clothes for men in the men’s section, so that I don’t have to constantly look around me to reassure myself that I am actually shopping in the men’s section of the store?

  • Where My Food Lies

    I believe that the primary source of my affirmation is what feeds my soul. It is pitiful however, that such food is rarely wholesome since what appeases my ego often enjoys precedence over what feeds my soul. I hear of the agony of the heart versus the struggles of the head and none of it makes sense to me. I wonder if these efforts at apportioning constraints to these fountains of angst is in fact a delusion in the making, and if the head and the heart work in perfect balance to create the perfect storm, either of rapture, or rupture.

    Everything is in perfect balance, but in our drive to sell products and rape the bank accounts of the unsuspecting, we’ve perpatuated the idea that balance is only achieved in wholesomeness. It isn’t. My level of despair has always been directly proprotional to my level of jubilation. When the one decreases, the other increases, and so it is with everything in life. To assume that there is a perfect balance that is achievable external to our own needs for affirmation is a lie that will result in horrible truths that face us when we’re taking our final breath.

    Balance is not something to be achieved, but rather something to be balanced. Only in living consciously and mindfully, are we able to determine what balance we want for ourselves rather than allowing someone else’s ideals to be projected on our lives. I do not seek the balance of a successful capitalist, nor do I seek the balance of an ascetic. But both the capitalist and the ascetic have a right to the balance that they have sought out in their lives. My balance is my own, and my source of affirmation has to be other than man if ever I am to free myself from the slavery of my ego.

    My life’s struggle has been to find balance, but unfortunately much of it has been wasted trying to acquire someone else’s balance without achieving the realisation of my own. Much life has been spent, but life is not spent yet, so with dogged determination I will continue to pursue a balance that feeds me not of this world, but one that makes me worthy of what bliss may lie beyond. This may sound naive or even ridiculous to those that see nothing beyond, but if I were to consider the potential of getting that wrong, and compare that to the peace and purpose that such a pursuit would afford me in this life, I would happily get it wrong, because in doing so, I would also get it right. My balance, that is.

  • The Pretentiousness of Self-Doubt

    Self-doubt, it seems, is insecurity cloaked in anxiety. It occurred to me one morning on my way to work this week that each time I witnessed someone in the throes of an anxiety attack, there was an underlying sense of grave insecurity that left them helpless to deal with even fleeting thoughts of burdens they couldn’t stand the thought of bearing.

    This same pretentiousness drives me to write, or to ramble. This pretence that if I spew these words, it will relieve me of the burden of realisation that accompany them. It doesn’t. I read, quite uninterestedly, the numerous reminders about death. Reminders intended to spur us into action before that moment arrives when we stare inevitability in the face pleading for one more chance to do everything we always promised ourselves we’d do before we got old. But those reminders don’t remind me, they only taunt me.

    They taunt me because they remind me not of death, but rather of my eager anticipation of it since my youngest years. And as I grew older, I grew more tired of the wait and the anguish of not knowing when. When I was 22, I revelled in the deep-seated certainty that I would not live beyond 23, and so I immersed myself in this promise of tomorrow not always holding true. Until I lived beyond that age and felt cheated out of the promise of peace.

    But this is not about death. Nor is it about life. It’s about the lies we tell ourselves for so long that eventually we even convince others that it’s true about us. It starts out with a simple insecurity, or a simple doubt about something inconsequential, but usually larger than life because of the audience rather than the deed. It starts out when we’re unconsciously focused on how we’re to be seen by another, instead of how capable we are. That’s when the paralysing fear of incompetence sets in and convinces us that it’s safer to hold back, than it is to push forward because ridicule is far more painful than an insignificant success.

    And so the circle of doubt is formed. There are many that nurture it to the point of debilitation, while others stop short at instant gratification. Instantly gratifying themselves with puny accomplishments and denying themselves the opportunity to excel beyond mediocrity. More than the debilitated ones, I pity the mediocre amongst us. They hinder us in our quest for excellence or fulfilment, because they’re always pandering to the accolades of the feeble minded. Meanwhile, their appearance of confidence in their mediocre endeavours feed that self-doubt until they reach a point in life when the lies are just not convincing any longer. That’s when the fear of being discovered lurks just beneath the skin of the faces of those pretending to be the shadow of their true selves.

    Most of us will die never realising our true potential. Worse still, most of us will die not having anyone believe in our true potential. That we will die is inevitable. That we will live is highly doubtful.

    My sincerest condolences to the sorry soul that can relate to the incoherent rant that I just attempted to disguise as a meaningful post.

  • Knowledge

    A little knowledge makes you arrogant,

    A lot of knowledge makes you humble.

    ~ Cynically Jaded

  • That Thing Called Free Will

    It occurred to me tonight that it is entirely in the interests of atheists to discount, or at least attempt to disprove the reality of free will. In the absence of free will, it’s easy to argue that our actions and decisions are nothing more than elaborate sequences of instinctive behaviour hard wired into our brains. The more we experience, the greater our ability to present individuality because of the increased variables that influence our behaviour.

    However, such a theory falls far short of explaining the reason why we are able to actively and consciously choose between multiple outcomes of equal benefit. It also fails to address the reason behind us being able to consciously act against our instinctive responses. In fact, in the absence of free will, can we even claim to be conscious beings? Being conscious, being aware, being lucid all imply that there is an intelligence that allows us to acquire, grasp, and process information, and then do something meaningful, or at the least, something deliberate with that information. Even choosing not to act when action is prompted is further proof of this free will that we have.

    In considering all this, I find it somewhat amusing that many, especially atheists who pride themselves in being scientifically grounded, find it necessary to first prove that we have free will through scientific means despite the evidence that we live out on a daily basis that confirms our ability to choose independent of instinct.

    It reminds me of the ridiculous approach that we take towards life and health these days. For centuries we’ve known that chicken soup is healthy and aids in our recovery from cold or flu symptoms. Yet it was denounced by the ‘scientifically adept’ community of health professionals because no scientist took the time to understand and therefore prove the benefit that it provides. Don’t believe me? Read this. Yet if I were to take every atheist and scientist seriously, I’d have to discard the wisdom of the ages that was not grounded in scientific research, and wait patiently for them to come up with remedies that actually deal with the root causes of illnesses rather than their creative ways of dealing with the symptoms instead.

    Atheists, in all my discussions with them to date, have proven to be extremely myopic in their view of the world. They insist that their independence of religious dogma (which can also be argued to be a false notion of theirs) raises them above the ‘sheep’ that subscribe to theistic scriptures and principles. If I were to take the example of the chicken soup a step further, such a simple matter that took scientists possibly millennia to figure out benefited millions of people in the meantime. How? Through simple observation and common sense. So to apply this to the concept of creation, and therefore a creator, why should I abandon my belief system in there being a god until such time as some scientist in a distant time and place is able to confirm what I knew all along through simple observation and common sense?

    It simply doesn’t make sense, does it? The atheistic mind set that is. Abandon all knowledge unless scientifically proven and acquired, and collaborate with your peers to determine what is best for society because morality has no divine basis. The argument is so flawed that it’s almost entirely ludicrous.

    Oh, in my ramblings I forgot to make the point I started out trying to make. Why is it convenient for atheists to discount free will? Simple. If we have free will, it implies intelligent design. Intelligent design implies intelligent creation. And, you guessed it, intelligent creation implies an intelligent creator. It all flies in the face of the parts of the theories of evolution that suggests that we simply evolved into intelligent beings after originating from a single celled amoeba, or some crock like that. Even that single celled amoeba has a specific function and purpose, and I challenge any atheist to explain what cause an amoeba to be an amoeba. And when they explain that, I’d like to hear them explain what causes the cause of the amoeba to be an amoeba to be the cause of the cause of the amoeba. See how ridiculous infinite regression and the insane theories of causality can be?

    Yet atheists fancy themselves as being the only intelligent free thinking beings around. I beg to differ.