Petal in the Wind

Its a beautiful experience to see the world, small yet expansive, as part of you as much as you are part of it.
To feel the life coursing in your veins reflected in the rivers and tributaries.
To feel the beating bleeding heart emit warmth as the core of the world revolves and revolves in itself.
To feel the air in your breath and your exhalation to be as the winds that whisper and the winds that howl.
To feel the debilitating effect of sickness as how pollution and environmental destruction destroys the world.
To feel the eternity of death for every creature that faces death and self-extinction.

I have no right to wrestle power for my own use, my own existence a mere reflection of power and desire, of life and knowledge, of the ability to hear, see and speak. I am a petal blowing in the wind, my whims a mere illusion that the wind is my own. All I can ever hope to be is the petal that brings pleasant smells, hopeful colours and a reminder of the wind and release. I am but a petal.

I am a poor reflection.

Morning

The seeds of despair are not to be dust. It settles on the soul and ferments it for growth. Despair born out of reflection, regret and resentment is fuel for the growth of the soul. The soul becomes bathed in tears, sweat and saliva. 

Tears bubble to the surface, as water spouts from the stone, under pressure awaiting release. Sweat perspired by sheer effort to resist the urge to sway away from the straight unerring path. Saliva drying up in the mouth, ever begging for assistance from only that which can give it.

The morning is always mistaken to be when the sun rises and light breaks the sky. No, the morning is in the pitch darkness that births dew on grass and shivers in the spine. The morning is born in the twilight only witnessed by stars and moon, between the two suns of sunrise and sunset. The morning emerges, greeted by only a few, yet it holds the grand entrance of the one that causes the sun and moon to tick-tock perfectly.

I seek the morning that 

is lived by few and embraced by even fewer. 

I seek the morning that 

comes with the breeze of solitude and silence.

I seek the morning that 

precedes the daybreak, like a gentle mother.

I seek the morning that 

holds promise for my meeting with Him.

Kiting the hurricane.

We see neither past the day nor night of our lives. 

We live in complete darkness (of ignorance) to our fates in the future. 

We hold neither the information nor the capability,

to effect the path that we take in the course of Time. 

We are pushed and pulled by forces we mistakenly believe

to be within our grasp.

We are kites in a hurricane.

The kite let loose, far from the string that bind it to the Owner, thrashes about in the storm of forces, seeing neither pattern nor control in its fate. It is thrown about relentless, the wind furious and unthinking of the fates of those that reside it in. In the end, the kite is broken, torn and becomes unrecognizable. It can no longer fly and falls to the ground, no longer what it was before.

The kite pulled in, close to the string that bind it to the Owner, is still left to the forces of the hurricane winds, but it is within control, it is within means of control, within safety. The kite is close to the Owner and the owner takes care of the kite, as the kite has sought to be taken care of. The wind throws it about, but the kite is safe. The kite's movements are restricted slightly, but it is well, far from the fury of the uncaring hurricane. It then returns to the Owner, intact and appreciated.

Which kite will you be, my dear Self?

Pie

The form of matter, determines its function. Water as ice provides coolness, and as steam it provides heat. The characteristic of the matter changes with it form, henceforth the function. Function is derived from characteristic that brings about utility and appropriateness. To derive heat out of ice, and coolness out of steam is a crazy thing to be. Yet, beneath the layers of form and functionality, the matter does not change in essence, only in the exterior.

Man, imbued with so much!
Knowledge, Emotion and Intuition.
Every man is but an amalgamation of the three.
Yet, we see millions, no, billions, seemingly unique snowflakes.
But we know, for a fact that all are one inside.
One that through three, becomes many.
Ah, such is beauty.

Water turns into ice when the environment turns cold, yet changes back to liquid when permitted. Water turns into steam when the environment turns hot, yet changes back to liquid when permitted.

Where do we stem, what is our native form? I believe that that is the question that seeks to bring peace in Man. We are ever-changing creatures, responding to stimuli and changing our forms to fit the function demanded. But when the function is done, and all is quiet, shouldn't the natural thing to happen is that we become that which is our native state? Yet, we see people scrambling to always remain in their forms when the function has changed, or forms that have become obsolete. Never resting. We have not found our centre!

Ah, what a pity, even the water has found its centre, and it has no mind of its own.

Knowledge, Emotion and Intuition.
Where do we place each of the three such that there is balance, in the centre...?

Light

Mirror, Mirror on the wall.

Show me the fairest of them all.

I stand in front of my mirror, and I look upon it, only to find it hard to see myself.

I stand in front of my mirror, suddenly aware of the lack of attention I have given.

I stand in front of my mirror, afraid and conscious that I cannot see myself again.

I stand in front of my mirror, saddened by my own neglect to clean this mirror.

I stand in front of my mirror, asking myself when and why it has come to this.

Unable to see.

This mirror of mine, my window to my own,

I have only myself to bear its condition,

I have only myself to blame for its condition.

Wanting to see.

This mirror of mine, slowly, let it be surely so.

If it must be iron that chisels you, I will do so.

Long past was the opportunity for soft cloth, 

Gentleness will avail nothing to clean this dirt.

I need strength. 

Give me strength.

I need hope.

Give me hope.

For I long to see my own.

Needs and wants

The hunger that infests my body is as naturally part of my body as the air I take in every breath. Yet, as we are not the air that gives us essential breath, neither are we the desires that our body hungers for.

Many a time, our hunger becomes the more than a sensation, it drives us to feed it, it overwhelms our being such that we become a tool for to sate it. That is when we have lost our being to the hunger, a great loss indeed.

We must be cognizant of where our hunger comes from, what it alludes to, and where it stands in the scheme of our being. Only then can we combat the invisible, the implicit and the natural.

This hunger comes from our basal animalistic desires, it comes from a place low and dark, gritty and primal.

It tells us to sate it, to fulfill each of its desires and to be intoxicated by its fulfilment. There is no end in sight.

Due to its lowly position, it has no place in beings ascribed to the highest of the high (At Tinn, verse 4). It's fulfilment is an illusion and a trap, and it's denial, although difficult and unnatural, is the path best taken with constancy.

May we be given strength to continually battle the hunger within us

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.