- in the name of Allah -
After reading an article about foreign nations arming Somali factions, I began to wonder a point that many others have brought up before: why, for all the other, various labels and ethnicities possible, does the American media refer to the warring factions as "Islamists" or "Islamic militants"? Why should they not be "African militants" or "Somaliists"? The question's answer lies in the adjective 'Islamic' and what it denotes. Thinking it over a few minutes, I realized the world knows that Islam is different from any other religion, more important to global affairs than any other religion, and perhaps most threatening to foreign interests overseas. Why is this unique? Because no other religion comes close to as much attention as Islam receives, albeit most of it negatively portrayed. It occurs to me that the key to changing the world, then, is Islam. It is change that people fear first and foremost, even though almost all will acknowledge that that is exactly what the world needs. The question arises how will people come to accept the change that is so needed, change to quell the poverty, strife, hunger, war, struggle, all of which run rampant in all the parts of the world we don't see. The western governments believe that to win this battle requires military force, intelligence gathering, and pre-emptive strikes. The problem is that it is not terrorism they are fighting, it is not evil they are fighting, but rather change. The thing about change is that it will always come, whether we like it or not. People want to remain in their comfortable positions of power, wealth, influence. They resist any 'threat' to those thrones, but as every nation of men in the past has found out, it is only a matter of time until truth surfaces amidst the cries of protest.
(http://www.cnn.com/2006/WORLD/africa/11/13/somalia.reut/index.html)
11.13.2006
11.11.2006
- in the name of Allah -
Reading over the past words I’ve written, it’s pretty easy to see how up until now my destiny’s been scripted. Ask me a thousand times if I’d believe that some dreams could be impeded by glass ceilings and I’d tell you you’re crazy, but that’s precisely how it seems. Can’t predict a game much less life, tripping over possibilities with hardship the only thing in sight. But damn, how ignorant was I back then, thinking I knew how to handle people, knew how to give the words of comfort, when all I did was build black holes so other people’s dreams along with my own would eventually fold. Its wickedly fantastical how life seems to me now an eternally vigilant sabbatical, the shades over my eyes but for some damn reason I’m still not blind; I see clearly the pits and the falls but I go willingly without another motive to stir from an impetus of apathy, to the point where another claims its insanity. So I’ve come to know, from everything I’ve been through, what it is that I’ve learned all along: I’ve learned that I know nothing, that every assumption I’ve made is rooted in folly as it was probability all along without basis in the complexity of reality. As Nightcrawler once posed the question to Logan, would it hurt so much to see the world through different eyes? To maybe wake up one day in relief rather than having a feeling of pain inside. That could be my prescription right there, that what I see isn’t what’s really there but a mystery my subconscious loves to make as taunting for my fear. The can of worms opens and the sight isn’t pretty, notions of time and space go fuzzy as all becomes one in a senseless haze of panic strangely without worry. Words fail to describe how self loathing can carry a soul to its grave prematurely moping the loss of something never had but imagined, my world a visor of supposed protection dissolving away as the depths internal yearn for what has yet to happen. Maybe that’s the savior: the chance of a tomorrow effervescently ever-present, sometimes radiant, sometimes purgatory’s final descendant. Darkness consumes its own direction, as it can’t be sustained in a soul always leaning on idealism’s predilection. As the falling fall and become the fallen, strings from behind pull slowly, back to a point where it’s only a simmering cauldron. But what remains of those assumptions and theories?
Reading over the past words I’ve written, it’s pretty easy to see how up until now my destiny’s been scripted. Ask me a thousand times if I’d believe that some dreams could be impeded by glass ceilings and I’d tell you you’re crazy, but that’s precisely how it seems. Can’t predict a game much less life, tripping over possibilities with hardship the only thing in sight. But damn, how ignorant was I back then, thinking I knew how to handle people, knew how to give the words of comfort, when all I did was build black holes so other people’s dreams along with my own would eventually fold. Its wickedly fantastical how life seems to me now an eternally vigilant sabbatical, the shades over my eyes but for some damn reason I’m still not blind; I see clearly the pits and the falls but I go willingly without another motive to stir from an impetus of apathy, to the point where another claims its insanity. So I’ve come to know, from everything I’ve been through, what it is that I’ve learned all along: I’ve learned that I know nothing, that every assumption I’ve made is rooted in folly as it was probability all along without basis in the complexity of reality. As Nightcrawler once posed the question to Logan, would it hurt so much to see the world through different eyes? To maybe wake up one day in relief rather than having a feeling of pain inside. That could be my prescription right there, that what I see isn’t what’s really there but a mystery my subconscious loves to make as taunting for my fear. The can of worms opens and the sight isn’t pretty, notions of time and space go fuzzy as all becomes one in a senseless haze of panic strangely without worry. Words fail to describe how self loathing can carry a soul to its grave prematurely moping the loss of something never had but imagined, my world a visor of supposed protection dissolving away as the depths internal yearn for what has yet to happen. Maybe that’s the savior: the chance of a tomorrow effervescently ever-present, sometimes radiant, sometimes purgatory’s final descendant. Darkness consumes its own direction, as it can’t be sustained in a soul always leaning on idealism’s predilection. As the falling fall and become the fallen, strings from behind pull slowly, back to a point where it’s only a simmering cauldron. But what remains of those assumptions and theories?
11.06.2006
- in the name of Allah -
limited perceptions of mine frozen by time, isolation in such high doses it all seems frivolously designed. knocked sociality more than once, lost the argument more than twice, wrinkling the nose just doesn't bring the same feel inside. issues and wonder, questions without an answer, days roll smoothly along with only the self to find meaning from purpose cleft asunder. strings of apathy reach around obstacles and bends to try and take a hold of me, warmly embracing without worries or cares, matters for lesser mortals it pleads. can't let go again or else there may be no turning back, not giving a damn one more time and truly there might be no damn left to make even breathing seem worth the effort away slowly seeping. so mirrors should be friends or enemies, when no one else seems to bother with them anyway, shouldn't even care to please. its become about what has to happen rather than what should, for the ideal's been buried under sands of relic and value, with only the worthless left to represent the 'good and true'. my question at times is what to do, is simply the self refined enough or do we stretch our hands to those less fortunate, hoping to teach a thing I myself am ignorant of. I find there are no easy answers, no one step solutions, no formulaic equations to make life like math and all the complication just another part of living diluted. next steps seem like which next ropes to hang the hats off our heads first rather than our brains at least, only a time delayed for their moment of reckoning approaches without warning or cease. I can't scream insanity any more, its a plea of which I'm already guilty, so faith is just about the last pill left worth taking, the last remedy of remedies for spiritual aching. in this last poised stance, there are no spells to cast, no pain killers to lessen the past, but only hard heart aches to stomach and digest with a long gulp of patience to finally be free from dread. maybe tomorrow is a better day, and this possiblity is all I have, I've seen yesterday, and its only a drag.
limited perceptions of mine frozen by time, isolation in such high doses it all seems frivolously designed. knocked sociality more than once, lost the argument more than twice, wrinkling the nose just doesn't bring the same feel inside. issues and wonder, questions without an answer, days roll smoothly along with only the self to find meaning from purpose cleft asunder. strings of apathy reach around obstacles and bends to try and take a hold of me, warmly embracing without worries or cares, matters for lesser mortals it pleads. can't let go again or else there may be no turning back, not giving a damn one more time and truly there might be no damn left to make even breathing seem worth the effort away slowly seeping. so mirrors should be friends or enemies, when no one else seems to bother with them anyway, shouldn't even care to please. its become about what has to happen rather than what should, for the ideal's been buried under sands of relic and value, with only the worthless left to represent the 'good and true'. my question at times is what to do, is simply the self refined enough or do we stretch our hands to those less fortunate, hoping to teach a thing I myself am ignorant of. I find there are no easy answers, no one step solutions, no formulaic equations to make life like math and all the complication just another part of living diluted. next steps seem like which next ropes to hang the hats off our heads first rather than our brains at least, only a time delayed for their moment of reckoning approaches without warning or cease. I can't scream insanity any more, its a plea of which I'm already guilty, so faith is just about the last pill left worth taking, the last remedy of remedies for spiritual aching. in this last poised stance, there are no spells to cast, no pain killers to lessen the past, but only hard heart aches to stomach and digest with a long gulp of patience to finally be free from dread. maybe tomorrow is a better day, and this possiblity is all I have, I've seen yesterday, and its only a drag.
11.05.2006
- in the name of Allah -
So after the last post, I was just thinking how easy it was to lose bonds forged in the course of life. how should one act? would attempting to retain some threads of semblance be a vain hope overstretched in the shadows of night, or a valiant effort to make sure the sunrise in fact goes appreciated for once? I am not quite certain, but there is one thing that is clear. if something is to be lost, it is not without our own hand in its doing so, whether we are able to see that reason or not. having said this, with loss still fresh, there is another mindset of which one should be aware. letting go but not forgetting may be the key. one cannot control per se who comes and goes on a personal level, but the distinct feeling one has in regard to another can most definently play a role. so, on that note, I choose not to detach myself, not to let go, yet also not to harbor or hope. it isn't necessarily for me this would be done, though I do take in how it might affect me, but also perhaps the belief that two can or may become more than just one.
So after the last post, I was just thinking how easy it was to lose bonds forged in the course of life. how should one act? would attempting to retain some threads of semblance be a vain hope overstretched in the shadows of night, or a valiant effort to make sure the sunrise in fact goes appreciated for once? I am not quite certain, but there is one thing that is clear. if something is to be lost, it is not without our own hand in its doing so, whether we are able to see that reason or not. having said this, with loss still fresh, there is another mindset of which one should be aware. letting go but not forgetting may be the key. one cannot control per se who comes and goes on a personal level, but the distinct feeling one has in regard to another can most definently play a role. so, on that note, I choose not to detach myself, not to let go, yet also not to harbor or hope. it isn't necessarily for me this would be done, though I do take in how it might affect me, but also perhaps the belief that two can or may become more than just one.
11.01.2006
- in the name of Allah -
they say some people we meet in life come for a reason, some for a season, and some for a lifetime. I'll take this moment to acknowledge having known someone for a season/reason, only the parting is, predictably, bittersweet. clearly, only Allah knows if two should ever meet again later on down the line, but for the moment, I am both gladdened (new word?) by having grown as a person because of this someone, but saddened to part from them. its part of the way Allah does His thing, showing us people at points in life for reasons we don't immediately comprehend, but only realize in hindsight. alhamdulillah for it all. in other news, it may not be initially apparent, but the ice around the land of my imaan seems finally to have thawed, and truth prevails.
one ponders the next step, what the path will hold tomorrow, what perils to be faced, what what fear masked as adventure will abound next. the most important thing I can recollect at this very moment, about anything and everything in general, is this: that beyond our daily lives, beyond our daily struggles, there is a place we have yet to know, a place where only eternity of answers exist for lifetimes of questions. watching a tv show, someone said
"Evolution is often an imperfect and often violent process. Morality loses its meaning; the question of good and evil reduced to one simple choice: survive, or perish." - (Heroes, 10.30.06)
that phrase is brilliant, and were its scope inclusive of anything past death, it would be entirely meaningless. the 'point of it all', the meaning belief everywhere gives, is a purpose in life that yields in death. if we live as if all we have to live for is these 70 or so years, then there exist no substantial reasons, no 'real' grounds, to live life by any rule or system, for any law to mean anything. the end result being, there is never just 'one simple choice'. there will always be many choices. all that remains is for people to choose. (reference: Pascal's wager)
they say some people we meet in life come for a reason, some for a season, and some for a lifetime. I'll take this moment to acknowledge having known someone for a season/reason, only the parting is, predictably, bittersweet. clearly, only Allah knows if two should ever meet again later on down the line, but for the moment, I am both gladdened (new word?) by having grown as a person because of this someone, but saddened to part from them. its part of the way Allah does His thing, showing us people at points in life for reasons we don't immediately comprehend, but only realize in hindsight. alhamdulillah for it all. in other news, it may not be initially apparent, but the ice around the land of my imaan seems finally to have thawed, and truth prevails.
one ponders the next step, what the path will hold tomorrow, what perils to be faced, what what fear masked as adventure will abound next. the most important thing I can recollect at this very moment, about anything and everything in general, is this: that beyond our daily lives, beyond our daily struggles, there is a place we have yet to know, a place where only eternity of answers exist for lifetimes of questions. watching a tv show, someone said
"Evolution is often an imperfect and often violent process. Morality loses its meaning; the question of good and evil reduced to one simple choice: survive, or perish." - (Heroes, 10.30.06)
that phrase is brilliant, and were its scope inclusive of anything past death, it would be entirely meaningless. the 'point of it all', the meaning belief everywhere gives, is a purpose in life that yields in death. if we live as if all we have to live for is these 70 or so years, then there exist no substantial reasons, no 'real' grounds, to live life by any rule or system, for any law to mean anything. the end result being, there is never just 'one simple choice'. there will always be many choices. all that remains is for people to choose. (reference: Pascal's wager)