Path

The rightly guided are like gems, they are hard to find, 

and hardly many have them in possession or knowledge.

I am grateful for all the experiences and opportunities that have taught me the many things I cherish within my heart and mind. I am grateful for the sight and vision granted to me that allows me to see the many facets of the experiences I have gone through, and to glean as lessons from them. I am grateful for the friends and family I have, that have supported me knowingly and unknowingly, through their words of encouragement, words of chastisement and words of advice. I am grateful for the strength and patience granted to me that allows me to withstand the unrelenting tides of temptation, winds of weakness and the storms of sorrow, so that I may rise each time, growing.

Ageing and the cup of bullshit.

So here I am, taking a module titled Human Ageing.

Ageing is a natural thing, it is as inherent as the death that we will meet. Yet, some people, especially politicians and scientists seem to perceive to be a disease of some sort. Yet, ironically they don't seem to understand that the ageing itself is not the problem. The problem lies in the state of the human mind and body upon ageing. 

"A car, no matter how well manufactured, if driven hard, and without care, will deteriorate into a lump of metal much quicker than a car that is well taken cared for and is maintained regularly."

In my opinion, the concern should not be the reality of ageing, but on living itself. It has been proven that our current lifestyles, saturated with fats, sugar and chemicals, our time squeezed with a lack of sleep and intense stressful schedules, is detrimental to our current and future well-being. It leads to poor physical, mental and emotional health. It leads to the early or aggravated onset of diseases such Alzheimer's and cancer, It leads to the impairment of our ability to not only enjoy life, but also be a functional unit of society.

Its a strange event, really. The whole scientific community knows for a fact that our diets and lifestyles are bad for us, yet, their concern is how to cure it. Its as if they have forgotten the phrase, "Prevention is better than cure." Its as if we have to somehow just live with the fact that we will get such and such diseases and hence the zealous desire to pursue research in their cures. Is it because the food industry has such a strong sway and say on our lifestyles that any form of scientific rebellion against it will be silenced by their lobbyist? Or, that the purpose of research is to make cures that can be sold for revenue and profits to the pharmaceutical companies that will eventually manufacture them? Tin-foil hat was on, I'm sorry.

My point is simply, man Science is really slow on this.

Politely

We are but our own doing.

We bear the burdens we wrought,
We hold the memories we lived,
we fear the consequences we chose,
we cherish the things we give value,
we loathe the things we allowed to value,
we think as we were taught,

For every reaction, there is an equal opposite reaction. True or false?

In my humble humane opinion, false. For love will give love, and hate will give hate. Even with love, hate can make love, and even with hate, love can make hate.

For the words of hate hurled at our being with the force of anger, or the words of love delivered at our being with the softness of peace, unbroken and unshaken should I stand, solely true to my own being and to continually refuse the violent waves nor the gentle flow to break and erode my own being.

I am what I make myself to be.

Weighing In

I speak for no one but my self;

that I am truly inadequate in my understanding, for one only learns and understands when he progresses from a state of ignorance to a state of enlightenment, the path of wisdom shown in Light.

I shake in the face of adversity,

I shake in the face of trials,

My will like a dandelion blowing in the wind, getting weaker and weaker and weak.

I have no words to express my anguish, only to seek redemption and to try, and try, again.

What are we but a being measured by our deeds, 

done in darkness or done in light, just a measure.

Abu Huraira reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, 

“Verily, Allah does not look at your appearance or wealth, but rather He looks at your hearts and actions.”

Source: Sahih Muslim 2564

Zombie

Weighted limbs hang from the weighted body that belies the weighted mind,

the mind, weighed by thoughts, thoughts propel action and is propelled by it.

I began the day a corpse, the light of day barely grazing the darkness of my soul,

my shell of a body, hampered by the broken mind, a result of the forgetful heart.

I took on the day, a corpse seeking redemption, wanting to bathe in light and life,

my heart trying to remember, seeking to remind itself of itself, until I finally did.

I look at the day, though the sky is dark and the night is nigh, now there is Light,

the heart is remembering, the mind is beautiful and the body is alas, full of Life.

We only wrong our own Souls, we really do, our actions the extension of its condition.

The Sins we wrought, only seeks to darken the darkened, and slip further into forgetting.

The Goodness we do, only seeks to lighten the enlightened, and be bathed ever in Light.

Oh how we forget, and Oh how we lose ourselves.

Yet, like the cold muscles at the start of day, we stretch and stretch and find ourselves nimble.

As is the Heart, it started out dark, oh so dark, and we kept searching for light, sought and found.

Alhamdulillah.

You are the One I seek, in moments of darkness as I scramble in disbelief and terror,

You are the Light that shines the way, bringing me back to Your path, and only You.

And I submit. There is no confession worthy of confessing for You reside in my hearing, my hearing, my speech, and I am a given to You but not to my self, oh how I am still so lost and blind to myself.

There is Hope.

Organs

The calm sea bellies a potential for the thundering waves,

as the calm demeanour of a man hides the fury of a beast.

Our actions are extensions of the mind, 

instructions stemming from thoughts, 

thoughts stemming from the inclinations of 

the Heart. 

On the authority of Abu 'Abdullah al-Nu'man bin Bashir (ra) who said: I heard the Messenger of Allah(sas) say:

"The halal is clear and the haram is clear, and between them are matters unclear that are unknown to most people. Whoever is wary of these unclear matters has absolved his religion and honor. And whoever indulges in them has indulged in the haram. It is like a shepherd who herds his sheep too close to preserved sanctuary, and they will eventually graze in it. Every king has a sanctuary, and the sanctuary of Allah is what He has made haram. 

There lies within the body a piece of flesh. 

                    If it is sound, the whole body is sound; 

    and if it is corrupted, the whole body is corrupted.

Verily this piece is the heart."

[Bukhari & Muslim]

I asked a friend, 

"What is more important, Ilm (Knowledge) or Akhlaq (Morals)?" 

"Knowledge."

"On the Day of Judgement, what is put to question?" 

"The Taqwa (Piety/Enlightenment) of a person." 

"Where does Taqwa stem from?" 

"Morals." 

"Where does Knowledge emerge from?"

"Morals." 

"What is more important, Knowledge or Morals?" 

"Morals."

My tongue needs disciplining, it sways too easily, speaks too quickly and opines too blatantly.

Hardest of Hearts

   In response, Shaykh Jarudi simply recited a verse, "If only people would have learned humility when suffering came to them from Us (God)! No, their hearts only became harder, and (when their hearts had hardened) the devil made their foul misdeeds appear even more alluring to them"

   In our self-idolatry, we become so oblivious - absorbed in arrogance, we forget others, forget God and forget ourselves.

   I muttered as if to myself: "We forget God until God allows us to drift in forgetfulness!" Then I raised my voice and recited, "God reveals the signs so you might understand! But your hearts become as hard as rock, or even harder!" And despondently, I started to walk toward the door, but I must have looked defeated because I heard Shaykh Jarudi: "Why don't you complete it? Complete the verse!"

   I looked at him, but before I could respond, he proceeded to complete the Qur'anic passage himself: "For there are rocks that are porous through which streams flow, and there are rocks that crumble down in awe of God. And God does not fail to observe what you do."

   I stared at the shaykh, looking stupefied or perhaps stunned - I am not sure which! He commented rather matter-of-factly: "Son, even at our hardest - even when our hearts become hard as rockm good - like the water - still comes, and even among the most obstinately arrogant, at a single unexpected moment, we fall to our knees in love! If water can come through the hardest of rocks, you think God cannot come through 

the most forgetful of souls and the hardest of hearts?"

________________________________________

                    

Then your hearts became hardened after that, being like stones or even harder. For indeed, there are stones from which rivers burst forth, and there are some of them that split open and water comes out, and there are some of them that fall down for fear of Allah . And Allah is not unaware of what you do.

[2:74]

Process

Obscure corners shy away from the light,
unable to see when it shines too brightly,
too comfortably settled in the dark place.

With constancy and persistent patience,
bits of shadow fall apart to light in place,
shades of black to grey and then to white,

Not too fast or it will run away quick,
slow-paced but methodically urgent,
forceful waltzing of light to shadow,

I can feel the corners enlightening now,
purposeful light blaze with comforting warmth,
in time all will be lit in white as it should be.

No good thing comes easy,

Pounds of earth await the seed sown in darkness,

Blazing fire and crushing hammer tempers steel,

Force crushing bone give rise to even stronger bone.

So too must Man go through the same fate,

To rise above the dark desires of his Nature,

To suffer blazing fire that he may be purified,

To batter his Soul against itself to emerge stronger,

For truly, no good thing comes easy.

The symphony of the world is heard clearly above the din of the chaos and life,

Nature brings with it the peace of Life fulfilled and dedicated to purposeful existence,

A tree grows no higher than it has to, a leaf falls not when it is not time, and all is in order.

How could I have not heard it before, the beautiful orchestra of creation laying in beautiful silence.

Who remember Allah while standing or sitting or [lying] on their sides and give thought to the creation of the heavens and the earth, [saying], "Our Lord, You did not create this aimlessly; exalted are You [above such a thing]; then protect us from the punishment of the Fire. 

[3:191]

Foot paths

Ibn `Umar relates that Allah’s Messenger (peace be upon him) placed his hand on his shoulder and 

said: “Be in the world as if you are a stranger or a wayfarer.”

Dunya is a bridge from one destination to another, a path and a winding road.

Be the traveller that recognizes this and seek not the temporary abode by the road side, and slowly travel to the palace promised. 

Be the stranger that lays his feet in strange lands, respecting and respectable, honouring and honourable, different from what he sees around him, but true to his calling and nature. And walk on by.

Black-Smith.

Truly,

when we wholeheartedly seek for Peace, Peace will be found,
when we wholeheartedly seek for Guidance, Guidance will be shown,
when we wholeheartedly seek for Answers, Answers will be given,
when we wholeheartedly seek for Strength, Strength will rise,
when we wholeheartedly seek for Assurance, Assurance will come,

only with hearts wholly searching.

astaghfirullahalazim.

Metal burning hot and bright,

Painful, Searing, Tearing, Necessary,

Impurities appear to be removed, painstakingly,

Bang, Bang, Bang, turn it around, Bang, Bang Bang, repeat.

Over and over again the process happens, until the metal is firm and clean.

Post-War Proposition

There is a resounding desire and urgency to change.

Over and over again.

Over and over again.

Over and over again.

When, when will you learn that your actions can either detriment or enhance your well-being.

Death comes before Life, and as such, must I die before I can truly Live?

We pursue that fluttering pleasures of this world for naught.

You have seen, yet you do not see as you should.

ARE YOU BLIND TO THE TRUTH MY INTIMATE FRIEND?

No, truly, it is I who is blind.

I have no sight of the true Reality, this illusion so real, drawn before my eyes like a cinema, of lights and smoke. My eyes glaze over the glimmering lies and their ephemeral satisfaction, my mind seeking comfort in the way of the world and the way it perceives it and my body weakened and succumbed to its numbing senses.

Truly, I have lived a life full of deceit, and self-deceit.

Truly, I have not learnt my place when I still hold onto my place.

Truly, I am a being still drowning in mistakes and wrong-doing.

Verily, I seek the way to find Truth, the Truth and to abide by it.

Verily, I seek to lose myself in knowing my self.

Verily, I need aid to save me from myself.

Intention

It begins with a stirring in the Heart, and it escalates up, to be recognized by the Mind, and alas it is broadcast to the body, the limbs and the lips, to be affirmed and executed in action.

Like a river flowing downstream bringing water, it paves the way for Life and Living along her breadth, she paves the land and the land shows her permission, two coming as one to shape us.

From top to bottom, the connection is never cut and all is an ever-flowing series, one affecting the other, the previous and the next, would you rather a clear clean stream or a murky toxic flow?

All I'm saying is, it all begins with intention, all that we do, stems from there, all that we do, affects that,

The Heart

How then can we afford to go about, dripping toxic from our fingertips, poison from our lips, and dirt in our thoughts? Are they not indications of a diseased Heart? Crippled by the Nafs, her insatiable appetite, stealing away what we could have given to nourish the Heart. As diseases go, the ailing Heart needs remedy, and remedy often comes in bitter forms, painful forms and sometimes unwanted forms.

How else can we cure the sick?

Ya Tabib Al-Qalb, cure my ailing Heart and rid her of the diseases that pull at her flesh.

Poker

Open the book and read my story,
the words printed in black, spaces,
colouring the canvas of your mind.

Every fate woven in place, certain,
every thread, in length and colour,
the design created, yours and mine.

Actors and actresses in a play,
characters living life in a book,
each with a role, cruel or kind.

_____________________________________

I always think I know my cards, my options, possibilities and potential, 

but never the random turn of events, the random chance events and simply the rules of Life. 

______________________________________

Najm

In the cover of darkness, with the sound of waves lapping lazily on the sand, with the wind blowing softly a breeze, I sat and looked upon the stars for the glittering light that guided civilizations of people before me when the night was darkest and the moon was absent. 

Glittering stars that stayed true to their course and purpose , never straying away from a singular course, of which I take after in this ever-changing landscape of life, death and everything in between. 

I look longingly into them, their illumination brief but true, hoping that in the solace of night and solitude, that I may find inspiration for change and improvement, for I lay in a chasm of my own doing, too deep to call for help, too shallow to call for help, for only I can help myself in the undertaking of my self. 

I look upon the stars, their glittering light enveloped by infinite darkness, yet still brightly they shine. How I long to be clean and bright, like a shard of light in the sea of darkness.

Chicken Rice

I look for quiet places, they hold great value to me.
The bustle of a hawker centre can be a quiet place.
The tranquillity present in an empty park is one too.
The company of someone can also be a quiet place.

Quiet places are places where peace is present,
peace and harmony, amidst chaos and troubles.
Some people can speak endlessly, their words like honey.
Some people can speak endlessly, their words like noise.

I will smile, seemingly randomly,

looking at things, person, places,

even if no joke or story was told,

simple joy tugging at my cheeks.

_________________________________________

When I was younger, I battled anger and sadness and disappointment, putting up a wall against them, denying them entry into my heart. For a while, I felt victorious, thinking myself overcome such emotions. Presumptuous.

Like water ebbing at shore, as time went by, my wall got weaker and weaker, yet the emotions never stopped, as we live, we experience them over and over again. Yet we can only hold out for so long before the wall crumbles. 

They ate me from the inside out, no one made me angry, I was angry at myself. No one brought me sadness, yet I felt sad, and disappointed in others and myself. Oh the irony, of those ignorant of the condition of their own Hearts.

________________________________________

I was standing still, my mind free from any conscious thoughts.

I was awake, alive and aware, yet somehow, I felt light, floaty.

Sometimes, we do things that we have no good reason for. We do things that we are not sure if they are good or bad, foolish or wise. Then it dawned upon me, when we do such actions, we have given ourselves to the flow of the Universe. Of course there is an opposing force to the flow, and they seek to corrupt our desires and mislead us. Then I realized the importance of knowing myself, to know and distinguish between the two forces that governs our actions and Life. Often, this is the simple test that makes, or breaks us.

Tally

“ [He is ] 
subtle in his movements, 
sweet to look at,
he seeks out the loftiest of matters, and has the most outstanding moral ethics. 
He is not prejudiced against he whom he does not like, 
nor biased in favour of one he loves,
he is hardly a burden; and instead is very helpful. 
He perfects his actions as if he is being watched, 
lowers his gaze, 
is liberal in his giving, and never turns away a beggar. 
He considers his words carefully and guards his tongue. 
He neither accepts falsehood from a friend, nor rejects the truth from an enemy. 
He only learns in order that he might know, 
and he only seeks to know in order that he may act. 
When he travels with worldly people, he is the smartest of them, 
and when he travels with the people of the Hereafter, he is the most pious from among them. ”

— Prophet Muhammad al-Mustafa [SAW], describing the believer. 

Blind

we are strangers in a strange world, sometimes we feel like we are the only one that is strange in a world full of people who think themselves not strange. Other times we meet strangers who are like us, and we are comforted by the meeting of other people who are just as strange as us. But, those are rare moments and they are far in between. Everybody is strange in their own way, its just a matter of time before we meet another who is strange in our way too. We differ in our thoughts, our opinions, our personalities, our way of life, our beliefs, our principles, our morals, and so many little things that make us who we are, and differences are highlighted in this world where anything that is not accepted or is not seen by many is regarded as more than strange, unacceptable even. people are strange and often see in others what they either want, or dont want, yet rarely do they see in themselves for who they truly are. sometimes, a mirror must be placed in front of their eyes before they see but even then, some people do not. blinded by judgements and stereotypes, we have become a people with narrow minds, despite our expansive vision. i am a weird person and i often wonder about others about myself about the world and about people i habe never seen. strange because i find my makings quite different from others, It is no fault of others that they find me strange, even i find myself strange at times. and sometimes i find myself behaving in a certain way that even i would frown upon, and thus the disappointment when we lose track of our selves and instead become something else,. what do we become? I dont know, but I know for sure it is not who i usually am. I have been warned before, about the dangers of losing my self, and how it can lead to other things which are frowned upon. But the strangest part is when I realize I have yet to know myself fully yet, how then can i even begin to lose myself? this, this is a revelation. is who we are something we already know innately? Sometimes i wonder too much. in the midst of our very busy lives, sometimes we dont even wonder about these things, our attention too caught up in whatever that we do in our lives, no space given for thought and reflection. Life.

Cake

The shadow we cast is only as high as the Sun is.
We are still the very same being we have always been.
The world revolves and changes, how can we not?
We are but one cog in the intricate system of cogs.
As we grind through the days, passive or active,
how can we not feel the wear and tear at our teeth?
The shadow is longest, darkest, at dawn and dusk.
The shadow is shortest, invisible, at scorching noon.
Do we face the inevitable heat, or the comforting dark?

______________________________

I walk along, on blinding white floor, surrounded by blinding white walls without a ceiling.
I am looking down, my eyes lowered but opened to see all that I can only bring myself to.
I look behind, and I see a trail of black footsteps, and I wonder, only to realize, it is mine.
I stop, my eyes hot with tears and something inside ached and grieved and cried out loud.

Cuba sampai jadi.

I am offered some delicious cake, and I knew I wanted more.
The lady looked at me, smiled, and put another slice on mine.
I asked, "But why?"
She said, "You have a good Heart, but its specked with some black dots. Keep at it."

Everyone needs a little push.

Menial Labour

Break it to pieces and wash away the dust that remains, watch and observe and the stains will grow and soon, too soon, it is dirty and it clumps as before. Carefully now, repeat, break and wash, and ever more it will seem to be forever. But the consequence of fatigue from the never-ending task is the likelihood of an end, an end that is far better than the consequence of letting the dirt amass into the mountain within, that it blocks out the light of light, and that we stand in the darkness, wishing for light when we know that we are the reason for our own faults and failures. Think and rethink, the sore heart and the crushed fantasies will give rise to the clean crystal place, 

fit for the King.

I will tell you, on another day.

From table to table

Herein lies the story of a lady we met by the name of Mary-Anne.

I have seen her before, many a times with her tired eyes, yet the glint of her smile always reaching to them, a distance never too far. She would smile, and with her merry voice, so identifiable with the Eurasian tilt, not begging but rather, simply greeting strangers, strangers she meet everyday, strangers that she meets once, twice and sometimes, every week. I am one of those strangers where strangeness is not part of my company.

Once again, the hour is late, the lights seemingly too bright and laughter is plenty. I am always with friends. Once again, I see Mary-Anne and yet, she seemed different this time. Ask me not what it is, for all I know is that something was. She passes by a table beside ours, and naturally, she leaves empty-handed, yet her exuberant smile and gratitude still lingered on her wrinkled brown face. Her hair was as I remembered, mostly white except for the edges of a few strands, and infinitely curly. She looks around, as she always does. This is what she does everyday, her eyes hovering across the multiple faces smiling and laughing, deep in conversation or simply gazing into space. I can only wonder what goes through her mind as she sees these young faces, juxtaposed to her aching knees, her shoulders sore from slinging her bag all day and night. 

She looked especially tired, her usual spark seemingly fizzled and I called out to her. Oh the look she has when someone acknowledges her. It is the simple joy of knowing familiarity in a crowd of many. I smiled as she did, and I tried my best to covertly hand her what my hand, heart and mind can offer without having any form of expectancy. A small portion of sincerity that only a beggar can offer. In the small gestures of passing from one hand to another, a subtle tenuous bond is formed between one and another, a softening of the heart. This is why there is a saying, "Charity is not an obligation, it is a privilege." I smiled at her, sincerity bleeding out like an open wound and quickly motioned for her to keep whatever she has. She quickly snapped, "I have my dignity to keep!" We laughed. My eyes glaze over and I feel a deep melancholy forming within. We smiled. We exchanged a few words, and I told her how I remembered a time when I saw her fighting with another over at Simpang and she laughed, but it was quickly extinguished as she tasted the sour and bitter memory of having been hit. 

Without letting any further thoughts cause any hesitation, I invited her to have a seat. No one tells a story while standing - except for preachers. No, she was no preacher, she simply wanted to share, and never intended any of her stories to have any didactic value, merely a nice story to tell. No one shares a table with me that they have no drink or no food, and I offered her a drink, and asked what would she like. "Hot teh-o with lemon please," accepting my offer graciously, oh would life have been simpler if more people in the world had such graciousness. Then again, she was no ordinary person. 

Herein lies the story of a lady we met by the name of Mary-Anne.