- in the name of Allah -

In case some of you haven't caught some of the recent news, I've posted it here:

  1. United States sending more aid to Israel
  2. United States selling major arms and equipment to Saudia Arabia and other Arab countries in the region
  3. United States and Israel vow to support Abbas

In case the meaning of the above points is lost, I'll clarify. Essentially, the U.S. government will be doing what it has been doing for the past century or so: selling arms to 2+ factions in a tense region, and basically letting the warring parties finish each other off. What's interesting from the second point is that the U.S. government assures Israel that it will have top priority in the region in terms of technology and funding, so no matter whatever is given/sold to its neighbors, it remains ahead in the massacres to come. The third point is interesting because Abbas is probably the least (democratically...oh the irony..) popular puppet "representing" the Palestinian people, so essentially not only is Israel supported light years ahead in terms of finances and weaponry, but the side of the Palestinian people being supported is bound to self destruct and cause more in fighting within the Occupied Territories themselves. So what does all of this mean, together? It's a little veiled effort to, essentially, vaporize one of the cores of the Ummah (Jerusalem / Masjid Al-Aqsa). When did things become so bad, that the government felt it was giving off the imitation of fairness by even bothering to release articles like these, affirming what people on the 'in' already knew? I should add, the arms are aimed at hope that the Arab countries finish off Iran first before themselves and each other. This is no fair fight, there is no care for humanitarian crises, only more planning for massive bloodshed and catastrophic instability in a region that's been externally racked by it for decades. How can we preach justice to one side and turn a blind eye to the obviously contradictory truth? It is a sad day indeed.


- in the name of Allah -

What does it mean when someone you barely thought you knew sticks by you like rubber on glue, and any misspoken word sent their way just bounces on through? It's as if a star fell from the sky, right in my mind, bore an idea that planted a seed that's growing inside. But must always the fruit of light be light? Can it be safe from the darkness, that creeps from day to day in this petty pace, 'till once again falling to night? Alas, it isn't always the intentions' paths that seeds follow, but rather they grow their own colors and shapes to construe or undo parental hopes bled nearly dry. Still, I know this star glows and yet keeps glowing, while my shadows surround it, suffocating it yet it survives in defiance of reason. Akin to the Boy Who Lived, an Idea Who Never Took, but only gave.


- in the name of Allah -

The time has come for some 'other' thoughts, of slightly out-of-the-loop ponderings, that I feel should have their own moment of lucidity. The (hor)crux of these concerns Harry Potter. My first run in with the series was back in 2000, in my 10th grade English class. My teacher was Mrs. McLaughlin, who gave extra credit if we did book reports on them. It was with that purpose I set out in borrowing the first few books from the library. Yet, here we are today, some 7 years later, where the whole journey comes to a close. What does it mean to care? How can we care about something that is complete fiction, that takes conventional theory of values and systematic society, puts it in a blender, and makes something from it in essence entirely different? What appealed to me most, what still appeals to me now about the whole series, is the many lessons to be found, the many recurrent themes, the eventual discernment that has to be made by the main characters between the things they value, and the choices they must make. As Dumbledore said in one of the books, it is about making the choice between what's right and what is easy. This is the knock on the global society at large, but nonetheless, the emphasis is always held on what choices were made, what path was chosen, by a main character who has the makings of any great leader, with an added bit of Western-styled notions of intellectual rebellion: He wants to be free of his burden, his desire for this is great, but never actually overshadows what he knows his true purpose to be. It's almost as if the entire sphere of Western and Eastern thought were combined, the best of both of them taken, and then an ideal frame of a human being carved out from the heap of molten ideas. To what end? Perhaps the answer lies in that, in this day and age more so than any that ever came before, there is a divide that needs unifying, a bridge that needs crossing, and an understanding from two different planes that needs to be understood. Who could have thought that a work of fiction could mean such a thing, but the actions undertaken by those in it would have so much symbolic significance, that they could propel men to care so much? Alas, caring is but the first step in what is known either as reform or redemption. Many people will read it, simply for the joy of reading and nothing more, glazing over some of the most important aspects of humanity that lay right underneath the surface. To take an example, the character of Severus Snape. What role could such a man play in the grand scheme of it all, given his portrayal by the author, by his relationship to the main characters? He was one disliked, despised, reviled, and downcast. Yet, it is about him which is only found near the end of the book, that redeems his past and present just about completely. Through it all, to what point though? He lived, and died, with a purpose, a goal that he defined (or had defined for him), that remained with him until the last breath he took. So what's to be derived? The very same, that there is more to this life than meets the eye (to semi-quote another almost-classic), that there is more to the notions espoused by religion and philosophy, that for perceptive beings, there can be no other end, no other more lofty ambition or recognition that there is, in fact, One God, and we are, in fact, His creation, made only to worship Him alone.


- in the name of Allah -

Hmm, I haven't been here since over a week ago. Seems like so long. Having written a number of things here and there, but not particularly anywhere, I guess I'll post what was written while at Assateague Island:

It's not the world or the heavens on my shoulders, but only my nafs with its deeds to carry when it's all over. Me, the creation, He, the Eternal, the world my vortex while time waits in the middle. Stars support the sky, giving guidance and sight to those with open minds. Though the clouds might distort the view, Ikhlaas reaches through bones to capture the truth.

Alas, my worry isn't anymore about what tomorrow brings, but about deeds to be sent forth while the Rope stretches out and thins. my simplicity's become my sanity, keeping cohesion while tornadoes of change whip in and out of season. there's no more escape or relapse, the door's been opened and possibility's hatched, from mere thoughts or ideal forms, to concrete tools and rings of ascendancy in jade adorned. tidal waves sometimes seem like sources of mutilation, but how then are shiny rocks etched into beauty's imitation? it takes a little bit of spark, a little catharsis, and a boatload of understanding to realize the end point of it again and again without repeatedly crash landing. we were made only to worship and remember, to give thanks and persevere, to hold ties and set standards for measure, to stand as one body held by One tether.


- in the name of Allah -

Sometimes I think I'd rather sleep, rather shut my eyes than open them so deep. It isn't often minds ever meet, to see the light during both day and night. I have floundered in a sea of singularity, wading knee deep in trial to fetch my end from afar closer to me. True, with every hardship I find ease, and every word He says is in earnest beneficially, though alas at times it seems crowds cannot bridge a tear in the fabric of possibility, when only just another is all there's thought to need. if spirituality has filled my soul, then where belongs the path claimed by mortality? is it just a dream, or is there a method in the madness we just yet don't see? my luggage is now with Allah, though my destination is there as well, my body's stuck in time and space, where it hates to dwell. this world has nothing for me, no dollar can quell my nafs, no vision of buildings stacked on high to make me gasp in awe, no wonder physical to a better conclusion draw. it is true, the hayaat of this world is a prison, not just for the mind, but everything that resides within. I'd forgo the fruits of this and now, to taste the sweetness of there and then. But, alas, there is no escape, the test is tried and true, and over this all reality slowly drapes.


- in the name of Allah -

Closing Curtains

When the stars fall from their place in the heavens,
When babies are never born and never meet their brethren,

When music etched into souls becomes as records played,
When only the self can propel one enough to save,

When money no longer is enough to fill the emptiness,
When blood has to be spilled to cover the cost of redress,

When people seek from outside what is to be filled within,
When people see sunshine while the evening only further dims,

When the past is a thorn still lingering enough to prick,
When the bonds of brotherhood wither and become a twig,

When judgment is given before trial or explanation,
When reason and truth are no longer enough to suffice pain's satiation,

When the gun is jumped but time never given its due,
When words can't bandage the hurt from what another went through,

When signs don't mean enough to change frozen hearts,
When accountability only concerns one's own part,

When bridges can't be built because there are no bricks,
When people keep their stones and reach a plateau less than half as thick,

When fad determines the worthiness of a path to be taken,
When painlessness takes the place of happiness in station,

When the doors of the soul become shut and the windows opened,
When others can only see but never reach the internally woven,

When wealth and stature repeal the laws of virtue and respect,
When material is the only worthwhile gain and the rest derelict,

When people only see words in their least expressive meaning,
In the stead of hearts who are in vain so fiercely beating


Such times, remember Allah, for He is always there
To ease the burden, and bring Victory ever near


- in the name of Allah -

seeds planted in spring yielded fruit in fall, things I thought I'd counted rightly missed their mark completely and made One enough for it all. brotherhood became a web to catch the valleys, when hills fell from folly. as days stretch to weeks and weeks to months, recovery dissolves into earnest resolve. I don't foresee much anymore, people come and go as shades of kingly thrones fall behind their source and bow to the greater purpose in store. ideas became as ideal as they could without drowning the brain that held them, safeenati became now a means to overcome the treacherous seas. in this world of the ocean's surface, I find tension pretentious, likely to give way to whim of wind without a moment's notice. so it is, the safeena rocks to and fro, supplanting the earth-like solidity with water's conforming


- in the name of Allah -

I am reminded in these early morning hours just how the journey of this life is made. There is no quick and easy exit, no simple shortcut, no one-line answer to any thoughtful issue. Often, I cannot even envision the wisdom behind some of the events that occur, but it is true that Allah's wisdom isn't one often comprehensible by men. In my life, I have come perilously close to kufr by not being thankful to Allah for the blessings I have received and the disasters from which I have been saved. What is scary to learn, however, is that one can discern from this a pattern without repetition, a pattern without definition, that follows askew the general trend of up's and down's. If someone should fall into a pit, then who can bring them out of it? I fell into such a pit, and though I knew of it, I could not retrieve myself from it. It was Allah who decreed that I see past the darkness of human fallibility and be reminded of the eternal hope of not only redemption, but a promise and possibility of a better life. Since having revisited this conclusion, I find that lows are no longer as low, and highs are held in check by their own selves, simply because some times, one would rather believe something be true when it is not so.

I am learning that it is nigh impossible to expect to be able to communicate with certain elements of people, and expect not the past to be a requisite factor in determining how such interactions develop and mature. The case in question refers to facebook, inconsequential in and of itself, but something a bit more when reinforced with those we think to know. It seems that a certain some thing's relatives have become off limits. How could it be so pretentious, if it is in fact the source of the disconnect? This is a mystery for another time, but one piece of self knowledge is gleaned from such an estimation. Mortality need not run through the hearts of men simply as a fragility leaning toward death, but also through a realization that quakes the soul as fragility of life; we are always more human than we think we are.


- in the name of Allah -

it seems I'm no longer swimming the seas of the world, though the storms and fires leave little fitnah interred. paths and fortunes remain on cookies, no longer sought after as sources of vindication or cause for jubilation on some midnight summer's eve, for the glow of some lamps is brighter and more lasting, a vision not for flies but those who seek out more than just barely passing. these lines used to be places for me to empty frustrations, pour open tombs of relic melted by time and reformed by not too recent catharsis and conflagration. but every opening that comes from this earth will find its end in the same place, so when the heavens are the goals and directions, purpose becomes more than just simplistic rebellion and mindless dissension. in every means, the end remains unified, whole, unbroken, unlittered, unfettered, consisting of One in almost as many letters. reason and logic, emotion and feeling, all know their source and now comprehend the truth of an irresistible craving. no longer do people or ideas in this world suffice, no longer can they hold back the soul from the precipice, the soul seeks flight, so risk is taken albeit small in my own eyes, that from this leap shall be pulled back the curtains, and beheld a Sight, worth waiting for all time.