- in the name of Allah -
From earlier today:
Vigilantes in vests combing the woods of antiquity without rest; so many loggers in uniform change public opinion from service to servitude with only pricks of conscience as thorns. Habitats and habits slowly crumble as chaos opens its arms, embracing the bosom of struggle. Pain breeds defiance or indifference, the former seeking ladders while the latter crawl into apathy's decadence. Criticism is plenty though surety is few, words uttered as insults dangle as daggers in throats while smiles cover up what wrongs people do.
As for what aim or purpose, just about purely random muse. Gotta love free time on the first day of classes.
8.28.2006
8.18.2006
- in the name of Allah -
"...it was reported that Abu Waaqid al-Laythi (may Allaah be pleased with him) said: “Whilst the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) was sitting in the mosque and there were some people with him, three people came in. Two of them came to the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) and one went away. When they came up to the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), they greeted him with salaam. One of them found a space in the circle and sat down, and the other sat down behind him. The third one turned and went away. When the Messenger (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) had finished (his talk), he said: ‘Shall I tell you about these three people? One of them turned to Allaah so Allaah accepted him; the second felt shy so Allaah will feel shy (to punish him); and the third turned away so Allaah turned away from him.” (Narrated by Maalik in al-Muwatta’, 2/960; Ahmad, 5/219; al-Bukhaari, 1/24, 122; Muslim, 4/1713, no. 2176; al-Tirmidhi, 5/73, no. 2724; Abu Ya’laa, 3/33, no. 1445)"
- (from Jaysh's post on islamica)
now about that bold part, isn't that what everyone's seeking?
"...it was reported that Abu Waaqid al-Laythi (may Allaah be pleased with him) said: “Whilst the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) was sitting in the mosque and there were some people with him, three people came in. Two of them came to the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) and one went away. When they came up to the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), they greeted him with salaam. One of them found a space in the circle and sat down, and the other sat down behind him. The third one turned and went away. When the Messenger (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) had finished (his talk), he said: ‘Shall I tell you about these three people? One of them turned to Allaah so Allaah accepted him; the second felt shy so Allaah will feel shy (to punish him); and the third turned away so Allaah turned away from him.” (Narrated by Maalik in al-Muwatta’, 2/960; Ahmad, 5/219; al-Bukhaari, 1/24, 122; Muslim, 4/1713, no. 2176; al-Tirmidhi, 5/73, no. 2724; Abu Ya’laa, 3/33, no. 1445)"
- (from Jaysh's post on islamica)
now about that bold part, isn't that what everyone's seeking?
8.16.2006
- in the name of Allah -
Why must nihilistic fatalism be such a defining characteristic in the human persona? It defeats all notion of logic and sense, abiding only some waves of emotion's tide. Not to mention all the great 'criminals' of the past who've done the unthinkable, both new and terrible things. Were these actions a precursor to their doom, or was it some last-minute conspiratorial move by fate? Every day, it seems, is a day one cannot escape from fate.
Yet we are challenged, to be greater than ourselves, greater than our weaknesses, greater than our archnemesis. Such is the state of life, of this life. If we cannot find peace here, will it be found anywhere? Perhaps, though certainty only comes with death.
I can explain nothing, give reason to no personal fallacy of mine. The clouds of being are often more dense than my most impenetrable fog, a fog quite usually self-created. The paradoxical nature of my still breathing, hold air in my lungs, is a wisdom on the other side of the lids of my eyes: every time I open them, I think I see but just as quickly they vanish.
Why must nihilistic fatalism be such a defining characteristic in the human persona? It defeats all notion of logic and sense, abiding only some waves of emotion's tide. Not to mention all the great 'criminals' of the past who've done the unthinkable, both new and terrible things. Were these actions a precursor to their doom, or was it some last-minute conspiratorial move by fate? Every day, it seems, is a day one cannot escape from fate.
Yet we are challenged, to be greater than ourselves, greater than our weaknesses, greater than our archnemesis. Such is the state of life, of this life. If we cannot find peace here, will it be found anywhere? Perhaps, though certainty only comes with death.
I can explain nothing, give reason to no personal fallacy of mine. The clouds of being are often more dense than my most impenetrable fog, a fog quite usually self-created. The paradoxical nature of my still breathing, hold air in my lungs, is a wisdom on the other side of the lids of my eyes: every time I open them, I think I see but just as quickly they vanish.
8.11.2006
- in the name of Allah -
After watching the video: "Against Zionism: Jewish Perspectives", something occurred to me. Oppression, wherever it is, has no favorites, has no friends, has no allies. Oppression hates anything and everything that isn't the same, or doesn't agree with its theology. Whats ironic is that I saw a new perspective, one I didnt quite imagine possible; there are a significant minority of Jews who are against zionism, against occupation. And imagine, "Jews" persecuting Jews. Whod a thunk it? It brings me to realize the danger of generalizations, and the even greater danger of oppression in the battles that all of us, every single human being alive, must fight at his or her own level every single day. I doubt there is a silver bullet, but I think an aluminum bullet of truth may do well to penetrate the bowels of injustice, so long as the guns of words rain truth from the mouths of the righteous and brave. (try saying that 5 times fast o_o)
may Allah grant the truth victory, and give it the ability to mesh with, and accept others like it wherever it is found. Ameen
After watching the video: "Against Zionism: Jewish Perspectives", something occurred to me. Oppression, wherever it is, has no favorites, has no friends, has no allies. Oppression hates anything and everything that isn't the same, or doesn't agree with its theology. Whats ironic is that I saw a new perspective, one I didnt quite imagine possible; there are a significant minority of Jews who are against zionism, against occupation. And imagine, "Jews" persecuting Jews. Whod a thunk it? It brings me to realize the danger of generalizations, and the even greater danger of oppression in the battles that all of us, every single human being alive, must fight at his or her own level every single day. I doubt there is a silver bullet, but I think an aluminum bullet of truth may do well to penetrate the bowels of injustice, so long as the guns of words rain truth from the mouths of the righteous and brave. (try saying that 5 times fast o_o)
may Allah grant the truth victory, and give it the ability to mesh with, and accept others like it wherever it is found. Ameen
8.10.2006
8.09.2006
- in the name of Allah -
Inna ma'al yusri, yusra. (Indeed, with hardship there is ease)
I've found this to be true, alh.
Pieces of my past find their graves easily enough, though the doors of possibilty were once opened, I think finally now I've been able to keep them shut. I don't know what price we have to pay for daring to dream, for daring to think ourselves above the ones who fall through the seams, but I know I'd rather have my dreams die in the pits than have myself fall in it. A small fee, to be sure, that I keep the nafs marching along to the tune of a song mechanically intertwined but in higher purposes designed.
To this day, I don't know quite what I want. Sure, to be on my feet is a something unto itself. But deep down, what? Is there anything? It probably takes a long to figure out what it is that one is really seeking..hopefully not a lifetime *shrug*. Interestingly, it occurs to me that what I "want" may not even be in this plane of existence, in this phase of life. So, if that is the case, what does one do exactly if the sea around you is Dead and dried, with the last moisture to be found is in the stars and constellations? :O
Inna ma'al yusri, yusra. (Indeed, with hardship there is ease)
I've found this to be true, alh.
Pieces of my past find their graves easily enough, though the doors of possibilty were once opened, I think finally now I've been able to keep them shut. I don't know what price we have to pay for daring to dream, for daring to think ourselves above the ones who fall through the seams, but I know I'd rather have my dreams die in the pits than have myself fall in it. A small fee, to be sure, that I keep the nafs marching along to the tune of a song mechanically intertwined but in higher purposes designed.
To this day, I don't know quite what I want. Sure, to be on my feet is a something unto itself. But deep down, what? Is there anything? It probably takes a long to figure out what it is that one is really seeking..hopefully not a lifetime *shrug*. Interestingly, it occurs to me that what I "want" may not even be in this plane of existence, in this phase of life. So, if that is the case, what does one do exactly if the sea around you is Dead and dried, with the last moisture to be found is in the stars and constellations? :O
8.05.2006
- in the name of Allah -
Everyone seems to be rushing towards the shores of acceptance while I remain a lone malcontent, wishing tomorrow was a bastard from today or the day after, a poor man trying to pay a decade’s worth of rent. Sun rises and sets don’t seem to carry their weight anymore, either that or aesthetics lost their appeal and all the colors became blurrily myopic through the dusty window of a ready-made store; only that ready-made stores no longer exist as the devil crept down from his throne and gave people a few more toys to play with. The community died when the individual was born, resulting in a society of separate and separated islands, each wanting its own when there’s no space for egos even when they’re silent. Speech is borne to dust and money and lust prevail as goals subtly disguised in the name of progress, the age is nicknamed liberal while truth is shackled to radioactive minerals, still digging the mines and providing the shinier things at its own expense, leaving the armies above to trample in ignorance while laying for their own selves a land of mines. I began these words with a personal aim but look I’ve diverged and my own purpose seems a casualty by indifference slain. I don’t care to look at the past if I rather live today, but when I look around me mountains and trees are falling while nature is supplanted with science and a metallic glimmer I find appalling. I wonder if science is the backbone of today’s democracies, governments and puppets who think they’ve played their roles in establishing order in a midst of perpetrated and perpetual chaos. Science or not, I think it was all lost when people commonly thought life without a god was the life to be lived, that killing the origin of ideals would solve the nuisance of metaphysical contributions, but alas, the physical that is meta is meta with reason and not such that their blunt swords and blades can penetrate while covered in treason. Life needs a purpose, no scientist can prove this, take it away and life is a rose dying with but a thorn to leave the world’s beauty a little more lifeless. She’s getting married today, a past I knew is hitting the winds and fans of time at a speed I never knew existed, with a dispassionate heave that I never thought I could muster, but its true, the instinct of survival persisted. I’m supposed to find fitting words in these last few lines, something to claim a grasp over the whole tribulation, but the metaphors and similes fail me; the icy grip of truth robs the heart and gives reins to reason, letting the ashes fall and the dust blow. Writing for ages wouldn’t soften the landing, but if there’s no landing, there’d never be another flight, another soaring to dare the skies of destiny and challenge a future I never knew lay ahead of me.
Everyone seems to be rushing towards the shores of acceptance while I remain a lone malcontent, wishing tomorrow was a bastard from today or the day after, a poor man trying to pay a decade’s worth of rent. Sun rises and sets don’t seem to carry their weight anymore, either that or aesthetics lost their appeal and all the colors became blurrily myopic through the dusty window of a ready-made store; only that ready-made stores no longer exist as the devil crept down from his throne and gave people a few more toys to play with. The community died when the individual was born, resulting in a society of separate and separated islands, each wanting its own when there’s no space for egos even when they’re silent. Speech is borne to dust and money and lust prevail as goals subtly disguised in the name of progress, the age is nicknamed liberal while truth is shackled to radioactive minerals, still digging the mines and providing the shinier things at its own expense, leaving the armies above to trample in ignorance while laying for their own selves a land of mines. I began these words with a personal aim but look I’ve diverged and my own purpose seems a casualty by indifference slain. I don’t care to look at the past if I rather live today, but when I look around me mountains and trees are falling while nature is supplanted with science and a metallic glimmer I find appalling. I wonder if science is the backbone of today’s democracies, governments and puppets who think they’ve played their roles in establishing order in a midst of perpetrated and perpetual chaos. Science or not, I think it was all lost when people commonly thought life without a god was the life to be lived, that killing the origin of ideals would solve the nuisance of metaphysical contributions, but alas, the physical that is meta is meta with reason and not such that their blunt swords and blades can penetrate while covered in treason. Life needs a purpose, no scientist can prove this, take it away and life is a rose dying with but a thorn to leave the world’s beauty a little more lifeless. She’s getting married today, a past I knew is hitting the winds and fans of time at a speed I never knew existed, with a dispassionate heave that I never thought I could muster, but its true, the instinct of survival persisted. I’m supposed to find fitting words in these last few lines, something to claim a grasp over the whole tribulation, but the metaphors and similes fail me; the icy grip of truth robs the heart and gives reins to reason, letting the ashes fall and the dust blow. Writing for ages wouldn’t soften the landing, but if there’s no landing, there’d never be another flight, another soaring to dare the skies of destiny and challenge a future I never knew lay ahead of me.