- in the name of Allah -
"To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour." -William Blake
I believe one singular moment of peace and tranquility is worth a thousand painful pricks. If only one such moment is found, and can be recollected in times of distress, who's to say the world and all its trifles become nothing more than a speck on the window of happiness?
What is perhaps more revealing, is the hadith of the Prophet (saw) in which it is said that whatever is good that befalls a person is because of Allah, and whatever is bad that befalls a person is because of his own doing. What truer statement can their be? Nay, what other statement can make so much sense? If any athiest used convential logic about the role of God (Allah) versus the role of man, and how one should play a role in the existence of the other, then this hadith alone would be enough to quell any misgivings. Allah has been assumed by many former people of the book (Jews and Christians) to be all-Good and it is wondered as to why evil could occur in the world if the postulated creator of the world was inherently and entirely "Good". Analyzing the hadith in this context, one sees that whatever good is found or expressed anywhere is as a result of Allah's will, whereas whatever evil and wrong is found or expressed anywhere is as a result of people following their own desires. Those who wish to reap need only look to what they sow to know what eternity has in store.
On a similar note, alhamdulillah. There are many amongst friends who are facing strenuous situations in life; may Allah make the burden easier on them all, ameen. As for myself, may Allah make the deen easy for my heart to accept and my mind to enact, ameen.
6.26.2006
6.23.2006
-in the name of Allah-
Alhamdulillah
some things you ask for and don't recieve, others you don't ask for and do recieve. and yet, in both cases, there is always a greater, divine wisdom. for this guiding aspect of fate and its holder, i am grateful
so i'm no longer in the market for hearts, no more looking for wholes but i'll take spare parts wherever i find them, becoming complete or helping along other wayfarers' destiny. life is nothing i or someone else hasn't already said it is, so whats there left to say, what words could bring us closer to truth than our own experience? indeed
but experience is but one facet and for those who lack, there's the complement of wisdom's visor and understanding's bootstrap. sometimes you let yourself and those you know take the roads that are theirs, even if it means parting in this lifetime and facing your fears. i can't acquiesce just yet, there's too much blood in my veins and too much of my soul with a purpose momentarily blind but whose sight it seems can never (iA) be stolen. in accepting what's been decreed, i don't forego the past i've seen or the possibilities of a tomorrow not yet breathed, i simply acknowledge my role and place in time, a trifle's trace that cannot be erased but in open heart and mind certainly embraced. every now and then may be laced with memory's poison or pen, but let it be noted that ink does'nt last, dis-ease is a token of this life for as long as we live in the hourglass. what's gone is gone and for now may never be, but let what might and may be take its hold and lead us to eternal serenity
it's only for a chance that we're alive; maybe, just maybe, this one chance is all we need, inshAllah
Alhamdulillah
some things you ask for and don't recieve, others you don't ask for and do recieve. and yet, in both cases, there is always a greater, divine wisdom. for this guiding aspect of fate and its holder, i am grateful
so i'm no longer in the market for hearts, no more looking for wholes but i'll take spare parts wherever i find them, becoming complete or helping along other wayfarers' destiny. life is nothing i or someone else hasn't already said it is, so whats there left to say, what words could bring us closer to truth than our own experience? indeed
but experience is but one facet and for those who lack, there's the complement of wisdom's visor and understanding's bootstrap. sometimes you let yourself and those you know take the roads that are theirs, even if it means parting in this lifetime and facing your fears. i can't acquiesce just yet, there's too much blood in my veins and too much of my soul with a purpose momentarily blind but whose sight it seems can never (iA) be stolen. in accepting what's been decreed, i don't forego the past i've seen or the possibilities of a tomorrow not yet breathed, i simply acknowledge my role and place in time, a trifle's trace that cannot be erased but in open heart and mind certainly embraced. every now and then may be laced with memory's poison or pen, but let it be noted that ink does'nt last, dis-ease is a token of this life for as long as we live in the hourglass. what's gone is gone and for now may never be, but let what might and may be take its hold and lead us to eternal serenity
it's only for a chance that we're alive; maybe, just maybe, this one chance is all we need, inshAllah
6.19.2006
-in the name of Allah-
It hasn't been as easy a road as I thought it would be. Time and time again, I find myself being away from all the things and people and places I used to know in life. Why is this so, why do I seem to run away, to avoid the subtle hints of the past? There's no more sanctuary left for me, that once used to be. It's raining outside, alh a little cooler now. Feels good for the soul.
Not two weeks ago, I thought it was all over in my mind; imagined I'd moved past all the ghosts of the past that haunted me...but that wasn't the case. They're still there. Slowly, I battle them for control of my soul, for a firmer grip on giving a damn instead of letting fate disintegrate plans into thin air. There's much I've wanted to say, but others have told me to do so would be unwise and purposeless. They are right. So, I will not. The remnants of years will remain as shards for my mind, until I can manage to construct another glass house. I would make it of stone, but stone doesn't let one see like glass and it opposes me in many subtle ways. Still, if Allah wills, a house of glass can survive a hurricane, so not all is or could be lost. I retain proofs of pains past, small evidences that convince me I wasn't entirely caught by insanity's net. Still, the past is where it will remain.
I was a fool. I still may be. But to forgive the fool of folly would be best for all.
Where is there to go from now but forward, what steps and strolls to take
that might make experience not a burden but a steward
It hasn't been as easy a road as I thought it would be. Time and time again, I find myself being away from all the things and people and places I used to know in life. Why is this so, why do I seem to run away, to avoid the subtle hints of the past? There's no more sanctuary left for me, that once used to be. It's raining outside, alh a little cooler now. Feels good for the soul.
Not two weeks ago, I thought it was all over in my mind; imagined I'd moved past all the ghosts of the past that haunted me...but that wasn't the case. They're still there. Slowly, I battle them for control of my soul, for a firmer grip on giving a damn instead of letting fate disintegrate plans into thin air. There's much I've wanted to say, but others have told me to do so would be unwise and purposeless. They are right. So, I will not. The remnants of years will remain as shards for my mind, until I can manage to construct another glass house. I would make it of stone, but stone doesn't let one see like glass and it opposes me in many subtle ways. Still, if Allah wills, a house of glass can survive a hurricane, so not all is or could be lost. I retain proofs of pains past, small evidences that convince me I wasn't entirely caught by insanity's net. Still, the past is where it will remain.
I was a fool. I still may be. But to forgive the fool of folly would be best for all.
Where is there to go from now but forward, what steps and strolls to take
that might make experience not a burden but a steward
6.16.2006
-in the name of Allah-
It's folly to think that what has gone will lie calmly down in the grave I've dug, every shovel of earth carries with it a scream of agony in hopes to reach the skies above. Alas, the fate of the dearly departed mound of dirt is simply to bury, nothing else though ghosts might entice the digger not to hurry. I need fuel to absorb and process, understand and internalize, or else the mind will erode my inner being from the deepest core wherein the soul lies. But where is the care one's supposed to feel while approaching friends and acquaintances? There's nothing but an absence, slowly creating and widening another lovely, black-hole of an abcess. Sure, I can keep my conscience above this fray that occurs on the lowest levels of being, but how long can it go on without erasing knowledge of meaning? I began to read some of yesterday and the consequences came in a vision I expected but couldn't quite imagine. Abruptly, the pages close and another effort is made to keep the book of history under cloaked threat of coals. Can tomorrow mean something without a past complement? Can ideals survive the battering of thought and fate? Can a lone prayer wipe clean a darkened slate? Questions and answers posed by a restless mind caught in a senseless world, a little bit of clarity perhaps before it becomes a lazy swirl of death's memory.
It's folly to think that what has gone will lie calmly down in the grave I've dug, every shovel of earth carries with it a scream of agony in hopes to reach the skies above. Alas, the fate of the dearly departed mound of dirt is simply to bury, nothing else though ghosts might entice the digger not to hurry. I need fuel to absorb and process, understand and internalize, or else the mind will erode my inner being from the deepest core wherein the soul lies. But where is the care one's supposed to feel while approaching friends and acquaintances? There's nothing but an absence, slowly creating and widening another lovely, black-hole of an abcess. Sure, I can keep my conscience above this fray that occurs on the lowest levels of being, but how long can it go on without erasing knowledge of meaning? I began to read some of yesterday and the consequences came in a vision I expected but couldn't quite imagine. Abruptly, the pages close and another effort is made to keep the book of history under cloaked threat of coals. Can tomorrow mean something without a past complement? Can ideals survive the battering of thought and fate? Can a lone prayer wipe clean a darkened slate? Questions and answers posed by a restless mind caught in a senseless world, a little bit of clarity perhaps before it becomes a lazy swirl of death's memory.
6.13.2006
-in the name of Allah-
Time can be a blessing if only one understands how it brings about healing for the soul and camels for journeys across desert sands. There aren't many oases to be encountered, so take each as it comes, without making it subject to irrelevant wish or whim. Some I know take the bones of the past to make reminders of skeletons, but I think that all they do is make more glass ceilings. Where are those fellow thinkers to help digest and interpret fate's earthquakes and tremors? but Where is he who thinks compared to he who acts? Can one become of both a unfied entity, or are they different species, each clamoring for a chance to be expressed and free? Slow steps for caution, strides for ambition, taking a stroll in between might bring the best of both in voices of unison.
alh
Time can be a blessing if only one understands how it brings about healing for the soul and camels for journeys across desert sands. There aren't many oases to be encountered, so take each as it comes, without making it subject to irrelevant wish or whim. Some I know take the bones of the past to make reminders of skeletons, but I think that all they do is make more glass ceilings. Where are those fellow thinkers to help digest and interpret fate's earthquakes and tremors? but Where is he who thinks compared to he who acts? Can one become of both a unfied entity, or are they different species, each clamoring for a chance to be expressed and free? Slow steps for caution, strides for ambition, taking a stroll in between might bring the best of both in voices of unison.
alh
6.11.2006
-in the name of Allah-
To think, I was foolish enough to imagine the worser times and moments had passed me by, when only there needed to come a day without any pills taken but many wonderings why. I've bordered on heresy before, knowingly questioning the vicissitudes of fate and what it had in store. But yet, so many elements that define me remain paradoxially linked to a future seemingly threatened to its brink. It amazes me how one idea can have sway over man, how just the mere taste of a vision is enough for the mouth to water and all other senses fail in a pattern almost a given. Alas, it's the fate of people such as me, who's favorite past time is thinking and best foresight is thinking..its idea upon idea, slowly building a mountain of unfulfillment. So I posed a question to a friend, can such an idealist survive the tide of time? The shores of the mind are slowly being eroded, the beach's beauty slowly lost, and during it all one wonders reality at what cost. Now, as at every crossroad faced before, I have two options: remain steadfast and know that all has its course and moment, or let loose and live as if anguish was life's only motive. As much as I try, I'll probably fall into the former, for to find the latter my end would puzzle even the coroner.
To think, I was foolish enough to imagine the worser times and moments had passed me by, when only there needed to come a day without any pills taken but many wonderings why. I've bordered on heresy before, knowingly questioning the vicissitudes of fate and what it had in store. But yet, so many elements that define me remain paradoxially linked to a future seemingly threatened to its brink. It amazes me how one idea can have sway over man, how just the mere taste of a vision is enough for the mouth to water and all other senses fail in a pattern almost a given. Alas, it's the fate of people such as me, who's favorite past time is thinking and best foresight is thinking..its idea upon idea, slowly building a mountain of unfulfillment. So I posed a question to a friend, can such an idealist survive the tide of time? The shores of the mind are slowly being eroded, the beach's beauty slowly lost, and during it all one wonders reality at what cost. Now, as at every crossroad faced before, I have two options: remain steadfast and know that all has its course and moment, or let loose and live as if anguish was life's only motive. As much as I try, I'll probably fall into the former, for to find the latter my end would puzzle even the coroner.
6.10.2006
-in the name of Allah-
another chapter, albeit much smaller, in life comes to a periodic close. i wonder if i'm happier now that i've saved myself from high likelihood of grief only to find no avail everywhere else. i'm a step away from what's good for me and i'm a step away from what's not, so what am i closer to? there should be a pill for turning off the nafs and everything that springs from it. sometimes there'd be relief to be found in complete indifference. as that's impossible for me, i meander forth.
certainty is gold, comfort is silver, if i could gift wrap myself an ounce of each i'd be a trillion dollars richer. you might wonder why give myself a gift, it's because i can't quite find the other half in a rear view mirror's tilt. of patterns this i've noticed, imagination is fruitless as long as life is corrosive. building so many towers out of dreamer's bricks, everything evaporates once the stars of fate become even remotely lit. letting go now to be a little safer later on, i see gatsby's ball failed and his only friend came when the bullet revolved. ambitions and dreams, desires and goals, all make up the idealistic idiot that fills all the cameo roles. like a mime i follow his signs and try to gain mastery of time, but what's real and unforeseen clouds my vision to what's a given buried in smokescreens. to each of these ryhmes add a drop of bitterness and a pound of frustration, bake for a lifetime, open the casket to reap heavenly or hellish gestation.
-needing du'a
another chapter, albeit much smaller, in life comes to a periodic close. i wonder if i'm happier now that i've saved myself from high likelihood of grief only to find no avail everywhere else. i'm a step away from what's good for me and i'm a step away from what's not, so what am i closer to? there should be a pill for turning off the nafs and everything that springs from it. sometimes there'd be relief to be found in complete indifference. as that's impossible for me, i meander forth.
certainty is gold, comfort is silver, if i could gift wrap myself an ounce of each i'd be a trillion dollars richer. you might wonder why give myself a gift, it's because i can't quite find the other half in a rear view mirror's tilt. of patterns this i've noticed, imagination is fruitless as long as life is corrosive. building so many towers out of dreamer's bricks, everything evaporates once the stars of fate become even remotely lit. letting go now to be a little safer later on, i see gatsby's ball failed and his only friend came when the bullet revolved. ambitions and dreams, desires and goals, all make up the idealistic idiot that fills all the cameo roles. like a mime i follow his signs and try to gain mastery of time, but what's real and unforeseen clouds my vision to what's a given buried in smokescreens. to each of these ryhmes add a drop of bitterness and a pound of frustration, bake for a lifetime, open the casket to reap heavenly or hellish gestation.
-needing du'a
6.06.2006
6.04.2006
-in the name of Allah-
what the hell am i thinking? sometimes i wonder if i really live in my physical body at all or do i visit other places while thinking to be conscious. i think, once in a while, one experiencing this should bang the head against a wall, then repose the question: what am i doing? o_o
i mean ffs, its as if i created words in my mind to take the place of what someone else said..what other greater form of self-delusion/fallacy can there be?!?!
what the hell am i thinking? sometimes i wonder if i really live in my physical body at all or do i visit other places while thinking to be conscious. i think, once in a while, one experiencing this should bang the head against a wall, then repose the question: what am i doing? o_o
i mean ffs, its as if i created words in my mind to take the place of what someone else said..what other greater form of self-delusion/fallacy can there be?!?!
-in the name of Allah-
so i went camping this past weekend. alhamdulillah, was a generally good experience. met my first beach (without attractions, alh) and saw the waves just crash on the shore. the skies, after rain, made their own cool forms, nice to see but even better when you could actually sit outside somewhat comfortably. in the past time or fore time, managed to write some poetics, release thoughts from within that just kept coming whether people liked it or not lol, but alh, a brain working is a brain able to think over its Creator
Under these stars what words can one soul compose? just enough perhaps to have built a crossing road, spanning seas of trials with wily winds of turbulence. gone past the learning phases and trifles of denial, i know that in life i've reach yet another plateau.
who are you that would not be of those already been, who are you that might solve the puzzle of whom and when? some notions i carry thus, of what becomes from ashes of apathy, exactly what one must. so what new plan have i designed, that might counter scenes previously contrived? i'm now aware and have accepted, how destiny and fate are both by one Single force directed. in the scheme of our existence, it matters little whether our flesh should ever meet, but wholly of this acquaintance that we might acquire a piety more than simply skin deep. with these words i conclude lines of early morning, iA so that in a span of this hour, we find an eternity more endearing.
Cloudy waves
why does the sky hold an animal's remains, rib cage and bones, a mirage soon to be changed? i see the whole as a picture's frame, wondering why it was slaughtered; maybe a deed it did wasn't quite rightly proffered? if it had to die, let us have learned not to spurn a vow long ago sworn.
not many hours later the clouds are transformed, wisping away while revealing stars to help the moon shed light on a nightly cover. darkness may deceive the casual observer, but look a little deeper and find nature's beauty in a muffled whisper.
i purposely write this imagery laced with backflashes and forward slashes because His is a rope i can't seem to let go or ever need any less; every time life rudely awakens in screams of stress, i pull tightly and the twine survives every duress. just as that is the fuel of my soul and the mould of the heart, there some things so innate that a clam's shells need never part to unseal the pearl- a love by infinity trade marked.
so i went camping this past weekend. alhamdulillah, was a generally good experience. met my first beach (without attractions, alh) and saw the waves just crash on the shore. the skies, after rain, made their own cool forms, nice to see but even better when you could actually sit outside somewhat comfortably. in the past time or fore time, managed to write some poetics, release thoughts from within that just kept coming whether people liked it or not lol, but alh, a brain working is a brain able to think over its Creator
Under these stars what words can one soul compose? just enough perhaps to have built a crossing road, spanning seas of trials with wily winds of turbulence. gone past the learning phases and trifles of denial, i know that in life i've reach yet another plateau.
who are you that would not be of those already been, who are you that might solve the puzzle of whom and when? some notions i carry thus, of what becomes from ashes of apathy, exactly what one must. so what new plan have i designed, that might counter scenes previously contrived? i'm now aware and have accepted, how destiny and fate are both by one Single force directed. in the scheme of our existence, it matters little whether our flesh should ever meet, but wholly of this acquaintance that we might acquire a piety more than simply skin deep. with these words i conclude lines of early morning, iA so that in a span of this hour, we find an eternity more endearing.
Cloudy waves
why does the sky hold an animal's remains, rib cage and bones, a mirage soon to be changed? i see the whole as a picture's frame, wondering why it was slaughtered; maybe a deed it did wasn't quite rightly proffered? if it had to die, let us have learned not to spurn a vow long ago sworn.
not many hours later the clouds are transformed, wisping away while revealing stars to help the moon shed light on a nightly cover. darkness may deceive the casual observer, but look a little deeper and find nature's beauty in a muffled whisper.
i purposely write this imagery laced with backflashes and forward slashes because His is a rope i can't seem to let go or ever need any less; every time life rudely awakens in screams of stress, i pull tightly and the twine survives every duress. just as that is the fuel of my soul and the mould of the heart, there some things so innate that a clam's shells need never part to unseal the pearl- a love by infinity trade marked.
6.02.2006
-in the name of Allah-
I know that sometimes wherever one goes, there are always trailing wisps of yesterday to follow, and if they don't happen to be in actuality, then they would be ideally. But enough of ideal and actual, terms I've pondered much over already; there need be no bleeding whence there is surgery.
So what is the current state of affairs? Summer session starts next Mon. iA, and here I go fullsteam toward being a little closer to slightly-self-sufficient (its assumed that Allah is the best of providers, so whatever I can 'attain' for myself, it is only that He makes it easy for me and enables all avenues pertaining to ambition). Ah, its almost time for Jumu'ah. I should be heading out soon iA.
a Toast for 2, 1 Past, 1 Maybe new
so what drives a mountain lion to seek the highest peek? is it his prey he chases, or is it worship, in ways of which we can only dream? maybe the earth below was just enough in yielding fruit, to entice the prey who'd become not long thereafter nourishment to boot. perhaps he knows there's little oxygen to sustain him on those treacherous slopes, but why would he continue, if he knows that death chases all such similar blokes? viewing ascension as a metaphor, and his climb an outlet of earnest truth to find, does there remain for him another door, whence lay another path once his soul decides? it very well may be that it is not for him to decide, but simply ascertain, the road in his eyes made clear, distinct between both loss and gain. so he is to choose, from a spring of reasons seeming to others obtuse, but if he sees the twinkle of a fire's burning on a mountain summit, why should he like others find thirst in an oasis of drink, where to rise is endure and despair is to plummet? questions aside, the lion's fate is written, whether he dies in a wimper or a roar, its all a given. what solely remains is to choose the path either of cowards, or of strain. in the path of struggle, beasts are prey to insanity, while stoics embody those who've found their peace, in the yet-unseen reality.
I know that sometimes wherever one goes, there are always trailing wisps of yesterday to follow, and if they don't happen to be in actuality, then they would be ideally. But enough of ideal and actual, terms I've pondered much over already; there need be no bleeding whence there is surgery.
So what is the current state of affairs? Summer session starts next Mon. iA, and here I go fullsteam toward being a little closer to slightly-self-sufficient (its assumed that Allah is the best of providers, so whatever I can 'attain' for myself, it is only that He makes it easy for me and enables all avenues pertaining to ambition). Ah, its almost time for Jumu'ah. I should be heading out soon iA.
a Toast for 2, 1 Past, 1 Maybe new
so what drives a mountain lion to seek the highest peek? is it his prey he chases, or is it worship, in ways of which we can only dream? maybe the earth below was just enough in yielding fruit, to entice the prey who'd become not long thereafter nourishment to boot. perhaps he knows there's little oxygen to sustain him on those treacherous slopes, but why would he continue, if he knows that death chases all such similar blokes? viewing ascension as a metaphor, and his climb an outlet of earnest truth to find, does there remain for him another door, whence lay another path once his soul decides? it very well may be that it is not for him to decide, but simply ascertain, the road in his eyes made clear, distinct between both loss and gain. so he is to choose, from a spring of reasons seeming to others obtuse, but if he sees the twinkle of a fire's burning on a mountain summit, why should he like others find thirst in an oasis of drink, where to rise is endure and despair is to plummet? questions aside, the lion's fate is written, whether he dies in a wimper or a roar, its all a given. what solely remains is to choose the path either of cowards, or of strain. in the path of struggle, beasts are prey to insanity, while stoics embody those who've found their peace, in the yet-unseen reality.