Tag: spirituality

  • Rose Coloured Delusions

    There is a rot that starts with our assumptions of being so unique that no one else knows our fears or our insecurities. It’s a rot that suggests that if we trust openly, we’ll be mortally wounded and humiliated to the point of self-loathing. This rot is reflected in the headlines that spew forth the accomplishment of some woman in South Africa that has apparently been voted the sexiest woman on the planet. This rot is further expressed in our willingness to indulge in useless fads and trends that make us seem more hip and happening (archaic term used deliberately to demonstrate how ridiculous it is to have ‘cool’ terms to use) so that everyone around us can admire us and aspire to want to be like the image they’ve conjured up in their heads about us.

    This rot…stinks. This rot is what is responsible for groups like FEMEN having a platform, for people like the ANC government of South Africa being revered while raping this country of it’s intellectual, material, economical, and moral wealth, to name only a few domains of corruption. The common denominator in all this is simply the allure of an image driven by unashamed vanity that is cloaked in a pretense of success. When some resist the temptation to be drawn into this downward spiral that leads to a cesspool of base desires, they’re seen as backward, out of touch, or old fashioned.

    The truth is, those that chase that perfect body, that perfect outfit, that perfect hairdo, or that perfect job, they’re the ones that are out of touch. My blog dashboard recently reflected the tragedies of life by someone who witnessed the murder of her own mother followed by the ‘suicide by cop’ of her father juxtaposed against someone who was pursuing a marriage interest. Between these two poles of life, there were others lamenting their weight, their job, their social standing, their image, and a number of other complaints, with very few showing any sincere passion to celebrate life, or at least their life.

    The fickleness of this pervasive ‘modern’ (read secular) culture carries nothing but destruction with it. Its romanticised notions of freedom and liberation are almost always distilled down to the reality of it being an extended experience of a fleeting emotion that was sustained by the imagination of one that is hopeful about reality. However the reality is, much of what the west has given us has slowly but surely resulted in the decay of society, the erosion of wholesome moral values, the ravaging of the environment due to its excessively indulgent consumerist approach to individuality, and its complete abandonment of community to the point where we seek communities online because we don’t recognise our neighbours any longer, and we dump our parents in homes because it’s ‘our time’.

    A casual glimpse of the images of life portrayed in so many online collections of western photographers (oh, the irony) reflecting their experiences and observations of communities and families in non-western settings reveals the almost profound sense of sincerity and joy in a way of life that is rich in culture and social cohesion, while getting by on a fraction of what is needed just to be deemed civil in the west. Those societies that show signs of aspiring to adopt the luxuries or privileges of a so-called first world lifestyle are already reflecting the fatigue and loneliness that accompanies such a choice. The only communities in the west that do not show the ravages of this modern lifestyle are those that still hold on to their traditional values without giving it up to the decay where religion, spirituality, and extended family responsibilities are mocked and ridiculed, to name a few.

    We live in a time of extreme dysfunction to the point where it’s nearly impossible to even recognise it any longer. The retarded way of life has become the norm, so only those that are excessively putrid in how they conduct their lives are actually excluded from main stream society, while the rest keep embellishing their lives with trinkets and distractions that are truly meaningless, but symbolically powerful. No wonder we’re always so tired and the average home cooked meal is no longer sufficient to sustain us without a healthy dose of hamster-like exercise and dietary supplements.

    There is much value and peace of mind in not being obliged to society. It’s easy to achieve as well. Unfortunately in order to do so, we need to know what we stand for and what we desire to achieve independent of those symbolically powerful trinkets and embellishments that have become the frame of our reference of a life well lived.

  • The Failure of Modern Medicine

    My biggest contention with modern medicine is that it provides, at best, a good intervention strategy but rarely encourages a wholesome approach to good health. I believe that the key deficiency in their approach is the fact that they start out with the assumption that there is no soul. This isn’t as ludicrous an observation as it may appear to be.

    For those of us that believe we have a soul which is interdependent with our physical form, we believe that the soul is the seat of intelligence, while the body is the seat of desire, or physical needs, so to speak. So what we think causes us to influence our physical form in ways that we’re still unravelling. The problem with modern medicine therefore is that they only study the effect of that thought independent of the thought itself, which leaves them believing that the symptom is in fact the root cause.

    Allow me to explain. When we consider chemical balances or imbalances, we automatically assume that the current state of the chemicals is what gives rise to certain behavioural tendencies. For example, when we have a high level of serotonin, we assume that the person is predisposed to being happy, while those with a low level of serotonin are assumed to be predisposed towards depression or stress. This is a very simplistic example that could probably be argued from various technical perspectives, but the point I’m trying to make is that we look at the current physical state and assume that to be a marker of the mental state, when in fact the reverse is true. The physical state is the symptom of the mental state, and not the other way around.

    I often feel anxious and frustrated when I think about how much more effective modern approaches to health would be if they just stopped being pigheaded about their insistence that nothing is true unless scientifically proven, instantly rendering the wisdom of the ages of holistic health remedies irrelevant simply because the remedies were not derived using present-day research methods.

    I have this recurring scenario that plays out in my mind each time I think of this where someone from a land that has never been contaminated with technology hears a human voice being projected out of a device that has no physical connection to anything or anyone and therefore assumes that some sort of magic is being used to do so, not realising that it’s simply a battery powered radio. Such is the nature of the most brilliant minds in the scientific research communities that because they have yet to find a way to harness, measure, or accurately observe what is commonly referred to as the paranormal, they view it with cynicism despite not having the answers.

    I guess the point I’m trying to make is that when we find someone in a state of emotional stress, or even physical duress, unless there is a physical defect present, it is most probable that the cause of it is an imbalance between what they desire and what they believe they are allowed to have. I’ve often seen that people with severe stress at the office usually end up in such a state because their jobs demand that they behave or produce work that conflicts with their value system. The same is true in life. When we try to control those things that fall outside our sphere of influence rather than accepting it for what it is, we end up feeling persecuted in ways that rarely occur to us in our conscious mind.

    The worst fallacy in modern medicine has to be its insistence that we are a victim of the chemical make-up of our physical forms, rather than appreciating that there is a seat of intelligence that exists alongside the physical form that they so painstakingly study. It’s like the ridiculous assumption that the Greeks made when they believed that our eyes emitted beams of light that allowed us to see, failing to understand that what our eyes observed was merely what existed external to ourselves. Similarly, the body is a vessel that harbours the soul, and therefore is used to express the desires and needs of that soul. When we fool ourselves into believing that that physical form is what dictates the health of our emotional state, that is when we become victims to our circumstances and effectively give up our ability to choose and think intelligently.

  • When Prayer Becomes Worship

    Quite inadvertently I realised this week that we only apply our minds and our hearts to those things from which we hope to acquire good. At first I thought it was just another superfluous thought, but it seemed to resonate in most things I did that day, especially prayer. Being a Muslim, there is never a shortage of emphasis by others on my need to comply with religious injunctions, especially those related to prayer.

    I’ve always taken exception to people who do things for the sake of compliance, because that is rarely sustainable and almost never fulfilling, with prayer being at the top of that list. Compliance and its promised rewards cannot be the only good that can be obtained through such submission, and this is not limited to religious submission only. In everything that we do in our lives, those things that have little or no identifiable reward often results in half-hearted attempts to do something with the intention of pleasing others, or to avoid ridicule or reprimand or worse, to avoid punishment. That just seems like such a waste of life.

    When I observe others, I find that the ones that do things with the most conviction are those that realise the benefits or the impact of what it is that they’re doing. For the same reason, you would find a janitor that would take more pride in their work than a qualified surgeon. It’s not the prestige of the job that drives that passion for detail and excellence, it’s the realisation of the contribution of what you’re doing relative to the greater good that drives us to want to do more than the bare minimum to accomplish the task at hand. For this reason you will find that two identically skilled and qualified individuals will produce a very different quality of result simply because of the personal perspectives and convictions that drive their actions.

    Complacency is only subscribed to when we lose sight of the true purpose of our servitude. In everything that we do, be it spiritual or physical, there must be a benefit for ourselves first before there can be a benefit for others in order for us to apply ourselves sufficiently to the task at hand. That personal benefit is often not material in nature and could take the form of fulfilling deeply held needs that we’re rarely consciously aware of. However, in serving others, we fulfil our need to be significant and to matter in a reality beyond just our own. In the spiritual realm this translates into finding personal benefit in our submission to the object of our worship.

    When prayer becomes a grounding point, a point of reflection, and a means towards attaining a clarity of thought and purpose let alone appreciation for what we have, that is when prayer becomes more than just a ritual. Understanding how that moment of submission balances the clutter with the sublime that leads to a more wholesome life is what turns it into an act of worship, rather than an act of obedience, or need. When all these realisations come together in our minds when we set ourselves down to pray, that moment becomes a cherished moment that cannot be rushed or compromised, but instead it will demand a level of mindfulness and conviction that will reflect in everything else that we do. It’s no wonder then that we are taught that if the prayer is sound, then everything else will be sound as well.

    Even if a ritualised form of prayer is not something that you subscribe to, the reality of being human will drive you to points of deep reflection on the purpose of life, creation, and what lies beyond. Perhaps that is the moments of true prayer on your part, regardless of your religious persuasion, and perhaps the conviction with which we meet those moments has a far greater bearing on the rest of our lives than we could ever imagine.

  • A Brain Dump

    We buried my aunt last night. We weren’t very close, but she was a nice lady. She passed on in the afternoon, and we buried her by 22h00 the same evening in line with Muslim rites and customs. But like every funeral, I embraced the scent of camphor, probably more so than most would. We use camphor as an embalming agent to prepare the corpse for burial. So it’s always been a sobering reminder of the inevitable outcome of everything.

    Sobering! That was the lingering feeling that stayed with me throughout last night, and today. And it lingers still. At times in my life I often visited the cemetery alone on cold nights. Sometimes, if not always, I felt a sense of belonging, probably from the knowledge that that will be the final abode despite our best efforts to prolong our avoidance of it. Last night was different.

    Last night I made a feeble attempt to reflect on the sight of thousands of graves with their flaking lime-washed surrounds and the lives that were distilled into that piece of earth that didn’t care about their riches, their comforts, their legacies or their significance amongst men. It was cold to the touch, and lifeless. And the sense of belonging, or even yearning, escaped me. I felt dejected, not just in my own life any longer, but last night I felt dejected from the after life. Nothing offered me comfort or certainty, let alone peace. I had always felt some morbid sense of belonging to the dwellers of the graves.

    The above unfinished post has been laying in my drafts since August 2011. I never completed it, and I don’t think I can do so now either. But recent events in my life, mostly at the office, serves as a stark reminder of the purpose of my time on this earth. Betrayal is like pain, no matter how it is experienced, how long it persists, or how familiar it may become, it will never be a joy, nor a welcomed guest. I often have to remind myself of the advice I so readily dispense. Live with hope, not expectations.

    It’s been a while since I indulged myself in a brain dump. One is definitely called for, although the audience that I have solicited for my blog makes me hesitant to be as brutally honest about my thoughts as I used to be. The problem with trying to be yourself irrespective of those around you is that a large part of being yourself is in fact shaped by those around you. Thoughts spilt recklessly under the pretence of spilled ink, or freedom of expression, only adds to the already burdensome load of callousness in this world.

    Despite the incessant betrayals that I experience in my life, which incidentally becomes much easier to rack up if you’re naive like I choose to be, I still find it impossible, or at the least distasteful to treat others with suspicion simply because I was betrayed under similar circumstances before. I believe betrayal is the root to all evil, not money. We first have to betray ourselves, our deepest held convictions, before we can muster up the cowardice to betray others. Money is simply a distraction, like almost everything else that we surround ourselves with in life. Reflection is called for if we hope to know what it is that we stand for. With all the distractions there is little time for reflection, so it stands to reason that we’re more inclined towards acting in a way that contradicts our dreams and aspirations without realising it, while speaking wistfully of missed opportunities and bad decisions, because each time those opportunities visited us, or those decisions were made, we could barely discern the bullshit from the burden of reality.

  • 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.

  • Knowledge

    A little knowledge makes you arrogant,

    A lot of knowledge makes you humble.

    ~ Cynically Jaded

  • The Sadness of Depression

    The sad part of depression is that you cannot choose happiness for the one that is depressed. It is a choice that only they themselves can make. My attempts at raising the spirits of those that seem downtrodden or just down often leaves me questioning my competence and my significance. But such questioning only lasts as long as it takes for me to realise that it’s not about me, nor are the choices mine to make. I sometimes think the greatest gift to a depressed soul is acting out their potential in plain view of them, without throwing it in their face, regardless of the motivation. But then again, maybe not, because it can so easily be mistaken for antagonism or condescension.

    I’ve slipped into that trap of condescension many times, despite it never being deliberate. That trap where I go off on a tangent and lecture others about why they should have no reason to be depressed, while forgetting that depression is simply a secondary emotion. It is the cloak of what lies beneath. It’s the guard that keeps us safe from facing what we truly fear. At least it has been for me on many occasions. The underlying fear of rejection, or potential of being insignificant kept me recoiled in the safe space that I created for myself. Worse still, the fear of failure on a grand scale that would rob me of any shards of credibility that I was clinging to.

    But it’s so easy to forget all that when I see myself reflected in the weary grimaces of others. Because I’ve seemingly risen above my last entanglement with the darkness, my ego drives me to believe that I’m in a position to tell others how to do it. I’m not. I never was. And I suddenly regret every indulgence that led me to spew unsolicited advice to those that seemed to be in a space darker than my own. I know it’s not what I needed. I know it’s not what turned the tables for me, because no matter how much someone says about the right things to do to escape that darkness, it was only when I detached myself from the experiences that weighed me down that I realised that the experience didn’t define me. The callous or crass behaviour of others was not a reflection of my worth. It was simply an insight into their weaknesses and fears. But they projected it on me, and I was a willing victim because I didn’t believe I was worth any more than they allowed me to be.

    I was wrong. In more ways than one, I was wrong. Sometimes getting it wrong turned out beautifully, and sometimes it drove me further away from reality. But getting it wrong was never the end of the road. It was always the beginning of a new one.

  • A Time Not So Long Ago

    There was a time when I considered engagement with others as being tantamount to the meaning and purpose of my life. I don’t any more, which is unsettling because as much as I don’t seem to yearn for it, I miss it as well. Ambivalence has never enjoyed my patronage because the indecision and discomfort it brings is repulsive.

    I always pride myself on being decisive, yet with age often comes many life experiences that either spawn wisdom or regret, and often both. In acquiring these assets, I often find that knowing more than before only highlights the abyss of ignorance that stares at me while I indulge in the seemingly noble endeavour of engaging with the hope of understanding.

    Understanding is an outcome that seldom accompanies debate these days. Perhaps my pointless circular debates with atheists have eroded my jadedness to the point of disillusion or perhaps even despair. Despair at the realisation that despite my greatest aspirations, or my most sincere efforts or intentions, arrogance will always triumph over knowledge. Arrogance breeds ignorance, and therefore it stands to reason that by extension, ignorance, in the end, will also obliterate knowledge.

    Another pointless post contemplating the purpose of life, the meaning of engaging with others, the goals of existence, and the irony of life. I feel clichéd. I feel as if my ability to contribute, to fight, to persuade, or even to influence, has been almost entirely expensed. That old familiar forgotten feeling of mental and emotional exhaustion lends its stench to my being again tonight.

    It appears I am becoming a bitter old soul after all. The brittleness of my being is all I  am able to share.