- in the name of Allah -
Wow, it's been over a month since I lasted posted. Did not expect that to happen, as there have plenty of higher level thoughts floating around for me to digest, even some to formulate into poetics, but seemed nothing quite materialized since.
Today is inspired by some of the recent choices I've made, aware of some lasting impact- for when is life possible to be lived without consequence? My present thought: sometimes when salt is rubbed into a wound, it isn't possible to get it out, no matter how flowing the river or how gentle the tap. Sometimes, it happens that this salt becomes part of the blood, absorbed by the skin and embraced by the organs, so that when any sensory function should recieve input...it's generally always taken with a grain of salt (almost literally). What does this mean for people? Can a heart's jaded pains ever truly recover? Are they even meant to? Every consequence affects us in some way, howsoever small. The way we speak to our friends, what we say to parents in anger, the times we let down promises or simply forget them altogether. Perhaps most poignant is the result of love and its loss, the ripple effects that some say will never stop rippling, pouring or trickling through into affecting all subsequent decisions to some degree. How is the loss of these things to be manifested? If the roads of this life are so painted with pain, why do so many (Muslims especially) force others to aspire to self-imagined utopias of pseudo-American dreams? Of course, I am being generous in meaning with the word "force"; few realize it is as such, that cultural and societal norms could ever dare compel a man to do thing he didn't like (perish the thought). Where does one fit in trying to subsist without these particular chains?
While I do not know the answer to this myself, it is similar to a state I find myself in. A state that simply knows I will always be myself, no matter how the weather changes around me. Strange to the utmost it is I should have this kind of perspective now, as once I used to think that I would like to look towards each day as an improvement, were I only able to improve myself in one single way. Alas, life is not so kind as to allow harbour such fanciful thoughts without repercussion. One of the most damning faults of needing this human contact, is that it makes us vulnerable to them by its very nature. As such, retaining a somewhat sparkly outlook remains not in line with the general consequence and consensus of life experience (it is usually hard, whether we struggle knowingly or not). Leaving such floaty thoughts behind, I came to understand that maybe the greatest individual struggle is to remain one's self while bombarded from everywhere and all sides (society, media, family, friends, etc) to be something or someone slightly (or drastically) different. Could different be better, more perfect, more fulfilling than now? It sure could, but there would be a loss of a certain pristine innateness in allowing pervasive external forces to shape one's perspective, a price I would rather not pay.
I've heard it said people like myself, those inspired to poetry or philosphical thought or simply very keen on intuitive senses, have a hard time finding a place in society- a thought I see now is very accurate. There is just so little resonance, especially when one gets to know another better and better (seeing their worst sides, as well as showing one's own), that the antipathy to ideals becomes just too great without harmony, a thing I think is extremely rare to find these days. So many people and countries have divergent interests, most interested in superceding the other so much so without seeing the fabric of their own countries already collapsing as a result. Is it that worth it to have the money of the 'West', if all it will lead to is moral decay and governmental corruption?
These are my preeminent thoughts of the past month and a half. As always, I would love to know people's counterpoints to me, and more importantly, duas/prayers of guidance are always needed.
12.10.2012
10.30.2012
- in the name of Allah -
what happens to faint hopes when the sun sets? when dreams devolve into bees without stingers or a place to nest? skies still hold marvels as stars twinkle and sparkle, but my own horizons fade into the blackness, as dawns without light or summers without sweat. the void's been calling, beckoning in ways I'd never suspect, as meaning and worth crumble into dust or earth, too shallow for roots and only fit to be usurped. I wish often these nights that I might act as most people do, how they can walk despite their own insignificance, blind or uncaring of personal ignorance. they've said over and over, various factions that is, that simply one must 'do' in order for the fruit to be brought through, but from where forms their ambitions? what places of delusion shatter their inhibitions, turning them from demons into self-empowering prisons? maybe I'm caught in a stream of self-loathing, lacking in confidence where it should be something I'm owning, but seeing just a speck of the world's imperfections mirrors in me my own recession. a stream now overflows with perception, close to drowning in things unsolved and corruptions escaping correction; where's the lever for this dam to let loose these thoughts, so they might find their haven in some poor wretch who couldn't deserve what he'd sought? if only the whims of life stopped with mine, it remains that singular deeds, both good and evil, can wreck lifetimes made towards opposite designs. actions full to the brim with unknowable consequence, presumed good or at least innocent, but doomed to not knowing its wisdom and thus dissolved utterly in certainty's ignorance. this puzzle, these mazes, replete with U-turn signs and arrows describing progressive phases, seem to serve only as rhetorical punishment for dreams undeserved. when did life become for me so gray and bleak as to muzzle hopes and dreams, coloring them only as rewards for those who challenge and achieve? so what then of the meek, if I'd sought to be counted amongst these darkened sheep? need I symbols of position and power, wealth and status, to find myself not counted with those who's cause is seen as hapless? can I only become what all expect, enabled only thus to life this burden from my chest? so it is that thoughts wrap themselves up, as serpents upon prey, knowing its weakness but still giving chase if only for a sense of play. onward, to the belly of the beast! either to slay or be slain, to give or become, one final, wholesome feast.
what happens to faint hopes when the sun sets? when dreams devolve into bees without stingers or a place to nest? skies still hold marvels as stars twinkle and sparkle, but my own horizons fade into the blackness, as dawns without light or summers without sweat. the void's been calling, beckoning in ways I'd never suspect, as meaning and worth crumble into dust or earth, too shallow for roots and only fit to be usurped. I wish often these nights that I might act as most people do, how they can walk despite their own insignificance, blind or uncaring of personal ignorance. they've said over and over, various factions that is, that simply one must 'do' in order for the fruit to be brought through, but from where forms their ambitions? what places of delusion shatter their inhibitions, turning them from demons into self-empowering prisons? maybe I'm caught in a stream of self-loathing, lacking in confidence where it should be something I'm owning, but seeing just a speck of the world's imperfections mirrors in me my own recession. a stream now overflows with perception, close to drowning in things unsolved and corruptions escaping correction; where's the lever for this dam to let loose these thoughts, so they might find their haven in some poor wretch who couldn't deserve what he'd sought? if only the whims of life stopped with mine, it remains that singular deeds, both good and evil, can wreck lifetimes made towards opposite designs. actions full to the brim with unknowable consequence, presumed good or at least innocent, but doomed to not knowing its wisdom and thus dissolved utterly in certainty's ignorance. this puzzle, these mazes, replete with U-turn signs and arrows describing progressive phases, seem to serve only as rhetorical punishment for dreams undeserved. when did life become for me so gray and bleak as to muzzle hopes and dreams, coloring them only as rewards for those who challenge and achieve? so what then of the meek, if I'd sought to be counted amongst these darkened sheep? need I symbols of position and power, wealth and status, to find myself not counted with those who's cause is seen as hapless? can I only become what all expect, enabled only thus to life this burden from my chest? so it is that thoughts wrap themselves up, as serpents upon prey, knowing its weakness but still giving chase if only for a sense of play. onward, to the belly of the beast! either to slay or be slain, to give or become, one final, wholesome feast.
10.06.2012
- in the name of Allah -
And slowly, almost without notice, another year has passed and I supposed to be one year wiser, one year smarter, one year closer to deciphering my presence on this earth. Hmm, if only such riddles were easily solved..
---
It is amazing to me how quickly some bonds must be broken, even after they took years and numerous struggles to create and sustain. There was such a bond of mine, of a friend I had known very well for almost 5 years now. Neither of us were overly social, but we found friendship through common interests (TV shows, movies, etc), and being of the same religious background, it wasn't difficult to forge something of brotherhood. I valued it for many reasons, mainly because I saw him as one stronger than I in faith, and one who's company would bring benefit in addition to our already common interests. Were it possible to sustain that brotherhood while still unscathed, I would definitely done so.
To be clear, his nature was completely opposite to mine. I valued emotion and imagination greatly, reaching subconsciously for freedom all the time; conversely, he was a staunch fixture of logic and utter detachment from emotion, in both its valuing and expression. It was amusing to me, then, to hear him describe me 100% matter-of-factly as someone devoid of ambition (of the worldly kind, I would say) and thus impossible to have motivation, but himself as one of ambition but no motivation to reach those ambitions. His caricature became clear to me at this moment: having known me so well, he felt he could so easily and quickly, offhandedly and without reservation, describe me in a few words that immediately pronounced sentence upon my being and would judge me, comparatively, as an aimless amoeba to his being a ship without sail. Obviously, a ship is far more along the evolutionary ladder than an amoeba, poor single-celled organism that it is. But, I did not mind that labeling so much as it was a sense of disdain from him, that he could not respect my lack of worldly grounding, my desire to rebel against society/culture that compelled me to not bend over backwards fulfilling the prescribed outline written by others of how I should live and to what things I should aspire (marriage being one). This person, whom I had respected (sometimes tried to, as it was not a perfect thing), had pigeonholed me, discussed me to others in a way I never would have of him, a manner almost rude though certainly disapproving. I tried to let the issue drop, but it festered in my conscious mind. The pattern of some of the arguments we'd had over the years came to fresh memory, and it was something I knew quite familiar: he had always spoken in a way without emotional/considerable regard for others, so much approaching arrogance in its "I believe I am correct because there is nothing there for me to possibly misunderstand" attitude. He would stick to paths and ideas of his own choosing, even when shown clearly that they were not the best or most ideal, a stubbornness born from something I could not understand, as later his mind would eventually change and he would agree the other way was better. Why should one carry this brazen, proud flag of one's own self, as if it were an indefatigable champion of logical matter-of-factness? People can never be so perfect..
Alhamdulillah, despite the troubles one has with or from friends, there is always a recourse. Family consists of such bonds that cannot be broken, even if they are dismissed, blood cannot be changed or erased. Though it might be harder to sustain them, due to proximity and general familiarity (presumably breeding frustration and contempt faster than any other kind of bond), once a person realizes that these bonds can be relied upon, everything else, the botheration and annoyance, becomes miniscule in comparison. Family is family, and will always remain so in spite and despite everything. And eventually, whether they like to or not, they are where home is, the last refuge from the entropy of everyone else.
And slowly, almost without notice, another year has passed and I supposed to be one year wiser, one year smarter, one year closer to deciphering my presence on this earth. Hmm, if only such riddles were easily solved..
---
It is amazing to me how quickly some bonds must be broken, even after they took years and numerous struggles to create and sustain. There was such a bond of mine, of a friend I had known very well for almost 5 years now. Neither of us were overly social, but we found friendship through common interests (TV shows, movies, etc), and being of the same religious background, it wasn't difficult to forge something of brotherhood. I valued it for many reasons, mainly because I saw him as one stronger than I in faith, and one who's company would bring benefit in addition to our already common interests. Were it possible to sustain that brotherhood while still unscathed, I would definitely done so.
To be clear, his nature was completely opposite to mine. I valued emotion and imagination greatly, reaching subconsciously for freedom all the time; conversely, he was a staunch fixture of logic and utter detachment from emotion, in both its valuing and expression. It was amusing to me, then, to hear him describe me 100% matter-of-factly as someone devoid of ambition (of the worldly kind, I would say) and thus impossible to have motivation, but himself as one of ambition but no motivation to reach those ambitions. His caricature became clear to me at this moment: having known me so well, he felt he could so easily and quickly, offhandedly and without reservation, describe me in a few words that immediately pronounced sentence upon my being and would judge me, comparatively, as an aimless amoeba to his being a ship without sail. Obviously, a ship is far more along the evolutionary ladder than an amoeba, poor single-celled organism that it is. But, I did not mind that labeling so much as it was a sense of disdain from him, that he could not respect my lack of worldly grounding, my desire to rebel against society/culture that compelled me to not bend over backwards fulfilling the prescribed outline written by others of how I should live and to what things I should aspire (marriage being one). This person, whom I had respected (sometimes tried to, as it was not a perfect thing), had pigeonholed me, discussed me to others in a way I never would have of him, a manner almost rude though certainly disapproving. I tried to let the issue drop, but it festered in my conscious mind. The pattern of some of the arguments we'd had over the years came to fresh memory, and it was something I knew quite familiar: he had always spoken in a way without emotional/considerable regard for others, so much approaching arrogance in its "I believe I am correct because there is nothing there for me to possibly misunderstand" attitude. He would stick to paths and ideas of his own choosing, even when shown clearly that they were not the best or most ideal, a stubbornness born from something I could not understand, as later his mind would eventually change and he would agree the other way was better. Why should one carry this brazen, proud flag of one's own self, as if it were an indefatigable champion of logical matter-of-factness? People can never be so perfect..
Alhamdulillah, despite the troubles one has with or from friends, there is always a recourse. Family consists of such bonds that cannot be broken, even if they are dismissed, blood cannot be changed or erased. Though it might be harder to sustain them, due to proximity and general familiarity (presumably breeding frustration and contempt faster than any other kind of bond), once a person realizes that these bonds can be relied upon, everything else, the botheration and annoyance, becomes miniscule in comparison. Family is family, and will always remain so in spite and despite everything. And eventually, whether they like to or not, they are where home is, the last refuge from the entropy of everyone else.
9.18.2012
- in the name of Allah -
///
while I glance through all of these mirrors and shades, I wonder which of me won't stay just a while, maybe so it wouldn't have to fade? my world has become constricted, deliberate for sure, but a wiser path?- maybe not if these wounds truly are self-inflicted; I find in this fleeting life too few pastures or oasis gleaming, everything surrounded and swallowed by desert sand, with no wells but mirages aplenty constructed by the greed of man; ironic or inevitable that a Nomad would find for his own soul no place of grazing, no moon in his orbit to shelter from this world's sun and make a half whole rather than be baked and thus undone; if I struggle hard to imagine, there's only a single star that might shine on this gray horizon: were a rose to blossom with as a deep red a color as my own, especially with thorns to match the fate I've sown, then maybe I have for these moments and seconds a purpose beyond wasting breath or brethren...
..only self-illusioned fools can capture the essence of stars to place in bottles, so others might gawk and marvel at how brilliant and unimaginable such feats were before hearts grew wings as powerful as spaceships to navigate the treachery of space that could send even the strongest muscles adrift.
\\\
ya Rabb, help me to find my way- ameen.
///
while I glance through all of these mirrors and shades, I wonder which of me won't stay just a while, maybe so it wouldn't have to fade? my world has become constricted, deliberate for sure, but a wiser path?- maybe not if these wounds truly are self-inflicted; I find in this fleeting life too few pastures or oasis gleaming, everything surrounded and swallowed by desert sand, with no wells but mirages aplenty constructed by the greed of man; ironic or inevitable that a Nomad would find for his own soul no place of grazing, no moon in his orbit to shelter from this world's sun and make a half whole rather than be baked and thus undone; if I struggle hard to imagine, there's only a single star that might shine on this gray horizon: were a rose to blossom with as a deep red a color as my own, especially with thorns to match the fate I've sown, then maybe I have for these moments and seconds a purpose beyond wasting breath or brethren...
..only self-illusioned fools can capture the essence of stars to place in bottles, so others might gawk and marvel at how brilliant and unimaginable such feats were before hearts grew wings as powerful as spaceships to navigate the treachery of space that could send even the strongest muscles adrift.
\\\
ya Rabb, help me to find my way- ameen.
9.03.2012
- in the name of Allah -
For the first time in many years, I can recall avidly missing the month of Ramadan. Though I spent less time in it doing extra good deeds than I should have, I let my heart remain open enough that I could see and internalize at least a bit of the light that comes with the month. Now that the most peaceful month of the year has passed, the layers of shelter return.
Recent difficulty communicating with a close friend of mine has given me cause to wonder just what use I can find for friendships in life. While I love family and hold them dear without question or impetus, those outside this small circle seem more frivolous. Since I no longer feel obligated to fit into anyone else's standards or puzzles of who they think I am or aught to be, I sense a change in the air when I am around them. It is as if I can find little common ground because that which they value and espouse is not quite the same as mine. I disdain small talk in general, except with people I care about, so the only conversation that I love is talking about big things, philosophical things that few people on average care about or could be reflective enough to carry opinions of. As I reach this plateau of realization that not many people tend to think as deeply, or value such thought, I find myself surprisingly accepting of the resulting "alone-ness". I would normally say 'loneliness', but that implies a desire for company without it being found, whereas in my case that is slowly no longer becoming the case. As I proceed, I find that personal strength and fortitude is even more important than it was before. As always, I have my Rabb (Lord) to rely upon when difficulties are faced, and a constant backdrop to any state I may be in. My family, alhamdulillah for them, have been there for me as well as ever.
It might be that in such cases people end up evolving out of friendships, as they themselves change and how they view and accept the external world into their lives. If people change all the time, does it not follow that their relationships would also change as well? I think it is a fair assumption to make. It saddens me a bit, but the best course of action seems to be only to fit pieces into a puzzle, my puzzle of life, that fit there - not trying to force any round pegs into square holes. All of these preceding thoughts, it should be noted, seem to stem from one of my principle desires: that of wisdom. I sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to ask Allah to increase me in it, while I am yet still in my 20's and not close to the kind of age typically associated with it (maybe 50's, 60's+). Alas for circular questions lol. All is well though, alh. I know there is risk in such a thing, and though I love my vision to be always expansive, there is at times a price to be paid along with such expansion: the things and peoples once loved become re-examined under a different light, and sometimes the only way to truly find/see something is to shine a light over it that actually reflects the goal being sought, instead of simply being glossed over.
And here I was, thinking to let out some thoughts poetically. iA, that will follow soon.
For the first time in many years, I can recall avidly missing the month of Ramadan. Though I spent less time in it doing extra good deeds than I should have, I let my heart remain open enough that I could see and internalize at least a bit of the light that comes with the month. Now that the most peaceful month of the year has passed, the layers of shelter return.
Recent difficulty communicating with a close friend of mine has given me cause to wonder just what use I can find for friendships in life. While I love family and hold them dear without question or impetus, those outside this small circle seem more frivolous. Since I no longer feel obligated to fit into anyone else's standards or puzzles of who they think I am or aught to be, I sense a change in the air when I am around them. It is as if I can find little common ground because that which they value and espouse is not quite the same as mine. I disdain small talk in general, except with people I care about, so the only conversation that I love is talking about big things, philosophical things that few people on average care about or could be reflective enough to carry opinions of. As I reach this plateau of realization that not many people tend to think as deeply, or value such thought, I find myself surprisingly accepting of the resulting "alone-ness". I would normally say 'loneliness', but that implies a desire for company without it being found, whereas in my case that is slowly no longer becoming the case. As I proceed, I find that personal strength and fortitude is even more important than it was before. As always, I have my Rabb (Lord) to rely upon when difficulties are faced, and a constant backdrop to any state I may be in. My family, alhamdulillah for them, have been there for me as well as ever.
It might be that in such cases people end up evolving out of friendships, as they themselves change and how they view and accept the external world into their lives. If people change all the time, does it not follow that their relationships would also change as well? I think it is a fair assumption to make. It saddens me a bit, but the best course of action seems to be only to fit pieces into a puzzle, my puzzle of life, that fit there - not trying to force any round pegs into square holes. All of these preceding thoughts, it should be noted, seem to stem from one of my principle desires: that of wisdom. I sometimes wonder if it was a good idea to ask Allah to increase me in it, while I am yet still in my 20's and not close to the kind of age typically associated with it (maybe 50's, 60's+). Alas for circular questions lol. All is well though, alh. I know there is risk in such a thing, and though I love my vision to be always expansive, there is at times a price to be paid along with such expansion: the things and peoples once loved become re-examined under a different light, and sometimes the only way to truly find/see something is to shine a light over it that actually reflects the goal being sought, instead of simply being glossed over.
And here I was, thinking to let out some thoughts poetically. iA, that will follow soon.
8.04.2012
- in the name of Allah -
Alhamdulillah, Ramadan has begun. I find myself in a far better frame of mind in it than I have in many, many Ramadans past. It was coincidental that a few weeks before the month started is when I resolved to change certain aspects of my life that needed fine-tuning, that some periodicity in the self could not continue unchecked. People need stability in their perspectives, or else they are utterly prone to waxing and waning in how they see things. Part of this stability comes from being able to focus on a singular desire that propels the self and its action in one direction, not always diverging (nafs wanting one way while the mind discerning another). Alh, I have found that desire in a part of Akhirah. What that is, I will keep a secret as I hope Allah lets me keep it all to myself :). But, suffice to say that it has affected every other aspect of my being. What I cannot allow now is to see this focus ever go to waste. It is strange that it should be so strong a pull for me, but it becomes obvious that Allah knows His own creation far more deeply than we can understand ourselves.
On another note, I want to share a recent train of thought that I have had. As I mentioned to a close friend of mine recently, I have grown to develop a profound hatred of fear. Maybe it is due to how I have seen it abused by human beings, as a tool of oppression and arrogance to rule over the less fortunate; whatever the origin, this hatred of fear has made it so that I do not wish to fear Allah in the purest sense of being afraid. My biggest worry should I fall into Jahannam, may He forbid it, is that I would be apart from Him and that which I desire most. As a consequence, I would never feel what is to be actually near Him, I would never be able to ask of Him all the thousands of questions about the universe that I have resolved to ask. Curiosity at its most basic. If I fall into the pit, all of those questions would remain unasked, the longing of which would be all-consuming, I would never be able to truly understand Allah as best a mortal being can. In addition, I would lose sight of the starlight of hope that shined for me from Jannah. What does a man feel should he fall flat on his face after seeing his dream almost as if it were in his grasp? That utter devastation, an abyss of sadness that could not ever be filled. All of these I would feel, yes, but fear of Allah? Not in the literal sense, no. I spoke with a close friend about this, how it was worrying that one of the aspects of taqwa seemed to be missing from me, and there was no way I knew of bringing it close. He said that people have different levels, and that those who can bring together the hope and the fear aspects of taqwa would essentially be in the highest ranks. That was a bit disturbing, but after pondering on that further, there was something more.
My relationship with Allah is quite simple to me. Being His creation, the connection that exists between Him and I can never be anything different. Even people who not believe in Him, still they do not cease to be His creation. This fact is true for everyone, and it is something which surpasses both fear and hope. His will, His message, these are eternal notions. I am quite the opposite. Being alive in time, faced with mortality as well as a infinitesimally small ability to affect change, I am very much subject to change. At times it may be mood or preference of food, or it may be that entirely conflicting and contradictory thoughts exist and are felt at the same time. But Allah does not change, and additionally, He is never in need or can He be harmed in any way. When people speak ill of Him, it isn't His truth or reality that is affected, it is the moral fabric of their own being. As such, being His creation, the only choice I have in existence is to be His. There cannot be anything else besides this, and ultimately, that is the end of everything regardless of what people say or do. Due to all of this, it's become a bit odd to me to think of Him in a way defined by human feelings of love or fear. The way my being requires Him is more basic than how a human being needs oxygen; a system was built a particular way, and never will a human being be able to live off of anything different, say hydrogen. Do I love the cold water that I drink on a thirsty, hot day? Not quite, but I am quite cognizant of how much I wish for it, how the physical longing is created within myself for that refreshment and respite from difficulty. Similarly, I need Allah so much, in ways so profound and ridiculously simple, that it seems to go beyond the kind of feelings I might have for a human being. I might hope, Allah willing, that all of this leads me to a deeper manifestation of taqwa, that I might become and remain one who is pleasing to Him, if only for the fact of what I might lose and how much I wish for that which I couldn't even dream of; ameen ya Rabb.
Alhamdulillah, Ramadan has begun. I find myself in a far better frame of mind in it than I have in many, many Ramadans past. It was coincidental that a few weeks before the month started is when I resolved to change certain aspects of my life that needed fine-tuning, that some periodicity in the self could not continue unchecked. People need stability in their perspectives, or else they are utterly prone to waxing and waning in how they see things. Part of this stability comes from being able to focus on a singular desire that propels the self and its action in one direction, not always diverging (nafs wanting one way while the mind discerning another). Alh, I have found that desire in a part of Akhirah. What that is, I will keep a secret as I hope Allah lets me keep it all to myself :). But, suffice to say that it has affected every other aspect of my being. What I cannot allow now is to see this focus ever go to waste. It is strange that it should be so strong a pull for me, but it becomes obvious that Allah knows His own creation far more deeply than we can understand ourselves.
On another note, I want to share a recent train of thought that I have had. As I mentioned to a close friend of mine recently, I have grown to develop a profound hatred of fear. Maybe it is due to how I have seen it abused by human beings, as a tool of oppression and arrogance to rule over the less fortunate; whatever the origin, this hatred of fear has made it so that I do not wish to fear Allah in the purest sense of being afraid. My biggest worry should I fall into Jahannam, may He forbid it, is that I would be apart from Him and that which I desire most. As a consequence, I would never feel what is to be actually near Him, I would never be able to ask of Him all the thousands of questions about the universe that I have resolved to ask. Curiosity at its most basic. If I fall into the pit, all of those questions would remain unasked, the longing of which would be all-consuming, I would never be able to truly understand Allah as best a mortal being can. In addition, I would lose sight of the starlight of hope that shined for me from Jannah. What does a man feel should he fall flat on his face after seeing his dream almost as if it were in his grasp? That utter devastation, an abyss of sadness that could not ever be filled. All of these I would feel, yes, but fear of Allah? Not in the literal sense, no. I spoke with a close friend about this, how it was worrying that one of the aspects of taqwa seemed to be missing from me, and there was no way I knew of bringing it close. He said that people have different levels, and that those who can bring together the hope and the fear aspects of taqwa would essentially be in the highest ranks. That was a bit disturbing, but after pondering on that further, there was something more.
My relationship with Allah is quite simple to me. Being His creation, the connection that exists between Him and I can never be anything different. Even people who not believe in Him, still they do not cease to be His creation. This fact is true for everyone, and it is something which surpasses both fear and hope. His will, His message, these are eternal notions. I am quite the opposite. Being alive in time, faced with mortality as well as a infinitesimally small ability to affect change, I am very much subject to change. At times it may be mood or preference of food, or it may be that entirely conflicting and contradictory thoughts exist and are felt at the same time. But Allah does not change, and additionally, He is never in need or can He be harmed in any way. When people speak ill of Him, it isn't His truth or reality that is affected, it is the moral fabric of their own being. As such, being His creation, the only choice I have in existence is to be His. There cannot be anything else besides this, and ultimately, that is the end of everything regardless of what people say or do. Due to all of this, it's become a bit odd to me to think of Him in a way defined by human feelings of love or fear. The way my being requires Him is more basic than how a human being needs oxygen; a system was built a particular way, and never will a human being be able to live off of anything different, say hydrogen. Do I love the cold water that I drink on a thirsty, hot day? Not quite, but I am quite cognizant of how much I wish for it, how the physical longing is created within myself for that refreshment and respite from difficulty. Similarly, I need Allah so much, in ways so profound and ridiculously simple, that it seems to go beyond the kind of feelings I might have for a human being. I might hope, Allah willing, that all of this leads me to a deeper manifestation of taqwa, that I might become and remain one who is pleasing to Him, if only for the fact of what I might lose and how much I wish for that which I couldn't even dream of; ameen ya Rabb.
6.06.2012
- in the name of Allah -
Alhamdulillah, time keeps passing on by. My answers to questions these days are as few as they have ever been, and my self and purpose beckon to amorphous, shapeless directions. Who should I become, towards what end, knowing what I do of my self? Classical thought no doubt, but therein is part of the everlasting beauty of philosophy: questions will always persist no matter how often we think to have found their answers.
Anyways, on to a recent thought:
If I could move heaven and earth to make myself more than just the sum of water and dirt, I think I would pass on the chance to become an angel in the land, walking in elegant stride with a staff of conviction firmly in hand. I was never a saint or devil but only a man, albeit one who's done much less than what his potential says he can. I've no wish to compete and struggle for dollars and honors, prestige and repute as rewards for climbing ladders to power. I was never made for that type of struggle, my soul rebels not in part but in whole to such concepts of the material made the end of all goals. I've heard it said that too much knowledge can lead to inaction, I qualify that by adding even little tidbits can break all traction so wheels of purpose spin in place on ice not melting but lasting. I long to love like the worlds of our galaxy have no choice but to follow one another around the sun, pulled with or without resisting by gravity as definite as light letting eyes see; but my conundrum is thus presented: who could I possibly find in this world with thinking like mine? Who's father would thus accept a pseudo-wretch who internally shuns worldly figures and sums without regard for other's thoughts or marches not to the beat of the world's drums? Honestly, were I in their place, I'd not accept one such as me - but odd as it is, I accept all of me as I am now! Imagine such contradictions walking around or simply remaining in self-made prisons or sanctuaries, where's this man's companion? Surely she must be otherworldly, not given to being mortally bound or externally driven. So it is that I think, thirsting for water while floating amongst the oceans, currents both cruel and gentle felt as one and the same for none hold water for me to be nourished in.
A fitting poetic I believe.
Alhamdulillah, time keeps passing on by. My answers to questions these days are as few as they have ever been, and my self and purpose beckon to amorphous, shapeless directions. Who should I become, towards what end, knowing what I do of my self? Classical thought no doubt, but therein is part of the everlasting beauty of philosophy: questions will always persist no matter how often we think to have found their answers.
Anyways, on to a recent thought:
If I could move heaven and earth to make myself more than just the sum of water and dirt, I think I would pass on the chance to become an angel in the land, walking in elegant stride with a staff of conviction firmly in hand. I was never a saint or devil but only a man, albeit one who's done much less than what his potential says he can. I've no wish to compete and struggle for dollars and honors, prestige and repute as rewards for climbing ladders to power. I was never made for that type of struggle, my soul rebels not in part but in whole to such concepts of the material made the end of all goals. I've heard it said that too much knowledge can lead to inaction, I qualify that by adding even little tidbits can break all traction so wheels of purpose spin in place on ice not melting but lasting. I long to love like the worlds of our galaxy have no choice but to follow one another around the sun, pulled with or without resisting by gravity as definite as light letting eyes see; but my conundrum is thus presented: who could I possibly find in this world with thinking like mine? Who's father would thus accept a pseudo-wretch who internally shuns worldly figures and sums without regard for other's thoughts or marches not to the beat of the world's drums? Honestly, were I in their place, I'd not accept one such as me - but odd as it is, I accept all of me as I am now! Imagine such contradictions walking around or simply remaining in self-made prisons or sanctuaries, where's this man's companion? Surely she must be otherworldly, not given to being mortally bound or externally driven. So it is that I think, thirsting for water while floating amongst the oceans, currents both cruel and gentle felt as one and the same for none hold water for me to be nourished in.
A fitting poetic I believe.
5.16.2012
- in the name of Allah -
It never ceases to amaze me how epiphanies come about. Even under or after the most common of circumstances, high in the clouds or treading through depths, there can follow a moment of clarity that simply puts everything into perspective, back into focus.
For me, this latest one is a bit mind-boggling (which one isn't?). For a long time now, I had been opposed to the institution of marriage. In my eyes, it had become something quite rotten with the fallacies imposed by superfluous culture and tradition, things that were easy on the eyes but pretty empty in meaning. I felt that marriage, for me - a wished-he-lived-in-another-age type, was no longer an avenue through which I could chase my ideal. I mean, what does this world do to ideals except erode, demean, and destroy them constantly? So, if the ideal could not be found or survive, then I had no purpose in finding my soulmate; alas, even if I would have, it would have fallen to pieces at the hands of this life, right? In any case, that was my thinking. Relatively flawed, yes, but in a fairly tragic-hero kind of way (so I like to think).
It never ceases to amaze me how epiphanies come about. Even under or after the most common of circumstances, high in the clouds or treading through depths, there can follow a moment of clarity that simply puts everything into perspective, back into focus.
For me, this latest one is a bit mind-boggling (which one isn't?). For a long time now, I had been opposed to the institution of marriage. In my eyes, it had become something quite rotten with the fallacies imposed by superfluous culture and tradition, things that were easy on the eyes but pretty empty in meaning. I felt that marriage, for me - a wished-he-lived-in-another-age type, was no longer an avenue through which I could chase my ideal. I mean, what does this world do to ideals except erode, demean, and destroy them constantly? So, if the ideal could not be found or survive, then I had no purpose in finding my soulmate; alas, even if I would have, it would have fallen to pieces at the hands of this life, right? In any case, that was my thinking. Relatively flawed, yes, but in a fairly tragic-hero kind of way (so I like to think).
On to the epiphany: I got to pondering over a supplication a best friend once taught me, he said it had helped him immensely. So I took it to memory then, and recited it on a regular basis. However, I had not been able to fully decipher the depth of its meaning till it literally hit me, just thinking over it randomly.
The supplication (dua) in specific:
"Rabbana hab lana min azwajina wa dhuriyyatina qurrata A'yunin waj'alna lil-muttaqina imama."
Translated - "Our Lord! grant us in our mates and offspring the coolness (joy) of our eyes and make us patterns for those who guard against evil."
(25:74)----{basic meaning: asking Allah for joy and comfort in spouses and children, while also becoming leaders for the righteous}
The underlined part is what lead me to the epiphany. For a long time, I considered only that I would be such a source of happiness for my parents, and that in itself was a worthy-enough means or goal for me to live. However, this time it occurred to me: it is true that I could be this for my parents, but who was there to be the coolness of *my* eyes? After looking at the supplication, the answer was evident: in order to find this coolness, one must have either a spouse or children. Alas, the obviousness of it was almost deafening. As such, there was no way I was going to find what I long for (a serenity, fulfilling and enduring) without reconciling myself with the notion of marriage, at least in the purest form I can find. And just like that, my opposition to marriage drifted away into the winds of time. I have to keep looking for someone. Who, I don't know, but my only condition or requisite has been simplified a thousand times over into just one....that she be my very own 'qurrata A'yunin'.
4.26.2012
- in the name of Allah -
marvel now at how fast peoples' states change, from insanity to clarity fully tamed, just a drop in the ocean is all it takes for darkness to dissipate, leaving twilight and shade in the place of shadow and the unnamed. the night just isn't the same as day, sometimes too quiet, always too few people around to take one's own burdens away. I was never Atlas, I could never navigate the treachery of myth or expectation of the foolish, or even just hold my own weight alone. it might be that my walls at times become too tall, letting no one in while never letting dreams out to find out if they will rise or fall. should birds not fly, all they'd have left is to sit still and die, the beauty of feathers and flight concealed by fear of failing, caught with chest tight on thorns dripping with the poison of lies. fortunate it is that the worst I ever seem to face is only the person standing in my place, a soul coming to grips that it is mammalian and not a self-styled avian. alas, alhamdulillah for imagination that lets me see past the present, into my self and a future of maybe's, pulled back from descent while proving a path to salvation.
marvel now at how fast peoples' states change, from insanity to clarity fully tamed, just a drop in the ocean is all it takes for darkness to dissipate, leaving twilight and shade in the place of shadow and the unnamed. the night just isn't the same as day, sometimes too quiet, always too few people around to take one's own burdens away. I was never Atlas, I could never navigate the treachery of myth or expectation of the foolish, or even just hold my own weight alone. it might be that my walls at times become too tall, letting no one in while never letting dreams out to find out if they will rise or fall. should birds not fly, all they'd have left is to sit still and die, the beauty of feathers and flight concealed by fear of failing, caught with chest tight on thorns dripping with the poison of lies. fortunate it is that the worst I ever seem to face is only the person standing in my place, a soul coming to grips that it is mammalian and not a self-styled avian. alas, alhamdulillah for imagination that lets me see past the present, into my self and a future of maybe's, pulled back from descent while proving a path to salvation.
4.23.2012
- in the name of Allah -
randomness, constructed from thoughts over these past few weeks:
why can I breathe easiest from the bottom of abysses, from where the ebbs of soul and spirit flow poetically, though on the surface appearing as listless? so many rhymes and realities trickle their way from ether into the mind, never beckoned, never by design, but with all signs pointing to Tartarus, my palace of ash gets blown away, like dreams fading from a waking person's grasp. each moment it seemed my paradise wasn't lost, that I had it all in hand, that my road to truth could be traveled with no cost, it slipped through as if it were sand, burning flesh away as penance for being merely a man, burdened with hopes while freed from fears, all the while with eyes wishing to well but never able to let go any tears. it is a trifle of fortune I was never meant to exist in this plane, a place where ideals are seldom created but too often constrained, so either they bend with heads bowed, or break, their tails chopped up into fodder for cows, feeding folly for the morrow's coming stars, a tribute to societies that survive by tearing others apart. if the pictures thus far painted remind one of apocalypses yet unfinished in scope or not quite begun in earnest, then Picasso I am, brilliantly wanderous, aiming for such heights without brushes or canvas. speak or write if words find form, perchance a lasso is just what I need, for the phoenix to be reborn.
randomness, constructed from thoughts over these past few weeks:
why can I breathe easiest from the bottom of abysses, from where the ebbs of soul and spirit flow poetically, though on the surface appearing as listless? so many rhymes and realities trickle their way from ether into the mind, never beckoned, never by design, but with all signs pointing to Tartarus, my palace of ash gets blown away, like dreams fading from a waking person's grasp. each moment it seemed my paradise wasn't lost, that I had it all in hand, that my road to truth could be traveled with no cost, it slipped through as if it were sand, burning flesh away as penance for being merely a man, burdened with hopes while freed from fears, all the while with eyes wishing to well but never able to let go any tears. it is a trifle of fortune I was never meant to exist in this plane, a place where ideals are seldom created but too often constrained, so either they bend with heads bowed, or break, their tails chopped up into fodder for cows, feeding folly for the morrow's coming stars, a tribute to societies that survive by tearing others apart. if the pictures thus far painted remind one of apocalypses yet unfinished in scope or not quite begun in earnest, then Picasso I am, brilliantly wanderous, aiming for such heights without brushes or canvas. speak or write if words find form, perchance a lasso is just what I need, for the phoenix to be reborn.
3.02.2012
- in the name of Allah -
echoes of days past chase back the skeletons and cobwebs, erasing nightmares while cruising down freeways just top less, contradictions pile on till the end of oblivion, suns shine from horizons without witnesses to witness them, breath held for the cold dampness creeping slowly in, minds thought firm seconds ago creak and crack from emptiness and lack of vision, memories soon to be lost give way to desert sands, oases to senses appealing but as deceptive as a crook's hand, desperate when its fence fled to better lands and left for him the better of two halves, so what does such a man have left to lose except his only chance, at vengeance or escape or remaking his broken plans, alas, trees signal water signal life so the wandering nomad, with the wind at his back to carry the words from lips a little farther passed, yells for whatever lay beyond the dunes, whether it be monies or honeys or life-extending runes, discarding the road behind as he wished to become reformed and refined, emotions fled from grasp as gold dust by vacuum of space given flight, my pull is weak and my mass too minimal, gravitation is for heavenly bodies, not for mortals dreaming of infinity and existence perpetual.
echoes of days past chase back the skeletons and cobwebs, erasing nightmares while cruising down freeways just top less, contradictions pile on till the end of oblivion, suns shine from horizons without witnesses to witness them, breath held for the cold dampness creeping slowly in, minds thought firm seconds ago creak and crack from emptiness and lack of vision, memories soon to be lost give way to desert sands, oases to senses appealing but as deceptive as a crook's hand, desperate when its fence fled to better lands and left for him the better of two halves, so what does such a man have left to lose except his only chance, at vengeance or escape or remaking his broken plans, alas, trees signal water signal life so the wandering nomad, with the wind at his back to carry the words from lips a little farther passed, yells for whatever lay beyond the dunes, whether it be monies or honeys or life-extending runes, discarding the road behind as he wished to become reformed and refined, emotions fled from grasp as gold dust by vacuum of space given flight, my pull is weak and my mass too minimal, gravitation is for heavenly bodies, not for mortals dreaming of infinity and existence perpetual.
2.15.2012
- in the name of Allah -
~
If only whores were Hurs, they'd be beautiful and pure, wishful thinking to brighten skies otherwise rainy and obscure. What man would love not the chance to hold in his glance, a scent to set passions ablaze, eternally free from frivolous sin or guilt, the perfect reward I might say for an end to life's maze? Why do I, one might ask, have my thoughts linger in such directions, when reality abounds and beckons, holding a person down with merciless reckon? It's been said this is our prison, our cage to wander till death answers the bell and our souls give in. How can one tied down, surrounded by incessant stress and frowns, not seek to find a cave in the clouds? Imagine being addressed by angels of incalculable wings, stretching from where one horizon ends to where another begins, all the while catching the gaze of the most beautiful women ever made. It hurts my brain to try to fathom, a time or place where such thoughts wouldn't by sin be unraveled, a perfectly delectable chocolaty cheesecake, without calories, fully edible with no possible regrets to its happening.
While I hate and fear the thought of falling down to Hell, of failing my self in front of my Lord when it matters most, I can say in earnest I'd love more to earn His pleasure and find Him as I expect to be, the perfect Host. I couldn't be less worthy, or more treacherous, than if a leper today claimed he saw Jesus at his deathbed, cured of all ailments, except what was wrong with his heart and his head. My soul betrays me more often than I care to remember, recollecting the times I'd wished to be free yet still breaths were held inside for me to breathe. Even with overt and sometimes honest intentions, wandering seems inevitable for nomads, and I can find in myself to this rule no exception.
And so, because of all of this, despite how straight the path is I wish to tread, despite overlooking the ditches, sometimes even falling head long off of (hopefully short) cliffs...that I dream the dream of kings, but without the taint of power or riches, just gifts gifted aplenty without recompense but simply endless. Rewards so enticing yet pure, incorruptible by lust, firmly entrenched by modesty and everlasting in bliss, all thoughts of imagination secure, lifted by a prayer I'd give to have for me my own Hur.
~
~
If only whores were Hurs, they'd be beautiful and pure, wishful thinking to brighten skies otherwise rainy and obscure. What man would love not the chance to hold in his glance, a scent to set passions ablaze, eternally free from frivolous sin or guilt, the perfect reward I might say for an end to life's maze? Why do I, one might ask, have my thoughts linger in such directions, when reality abounds and beckons, holding a person down with merciless reckon? It's been said this is our prison, our cage to wander till death answers the bell and our souls give in. How can one tied down, surrounded by incessant stress and frowns, not seek to find a cave in the clouds? Imagine being addressed by angels of incalculable wings, stretching from where one horizon ends to where another begins, all the while catching the gaze of the most beautiful women ever made. It hurts my brain to try to fathom, a time or place where such thoughts wouldn't by sin be unraveled, a perfectly delectable chocolaty cheesecake, without calories, fully edible with no possible regrets to its happening.
While I hate and fear the thought of falling down to Hell, of failing my self in front of my Lord when it matters most, I can say in earnest I'd love more to earn His pleasure and find Him as I expect to be, the perfect Host. I couldn't be less worthy, or more treacherous, than if a leper today claimed he saw Jesus at his deathbed, cured of all ailments, except what was wrong with his heart and his head. My soul betrays me more often than I care to remember, recollecting the times I'd wished to be free yet still breaths were held inside for me to breathe. Even with overt and sometimes honest intentions, wandering seems inevitable for nomads, and I can find in myself to this rule no exception.
And so, because of all of this, despite how straight the path is I wish to tread, despite overlooking the ditches, sometimes even falling head long off of (hopefully short) cliffs...that I dream the dream of kings, but without the taint of power or riches, just gifts gifted aplenty without recompense but simply endless. Rewards so enticing yet pure, incorruptible by lust, firmly entrenched by modesty and everlasting in bliss, all thoughts of imagination secure, lifted by a prayer I'd give to have for me my own Hur.
~
1.26.2012
- in the name of Allah -
Alhamdulillah, I got the chance to talk to the friend referenced in my last post. We levelled things out, and eventually I could find nothing at fault in his observations. If I see a blue colored fish and I call it a different shade, am I wrong for calling it as I see it? I do not think that is the case, so what's done is done, and iA we both move forward with better understanding.
In other news, my dream machine PC is finally finis. The OS finally got activated, after some hassle with the product key (why a new, legit key would have issues is anyone's guess). It looks so awesome just sitting there, now I wonder what I'll use it for lol, games?!, but surely there's something out there, more productive, that could use all those gigs of RAM and giga's of CPU hertz. It's all good. I find lots of gratification in simply being a collector sometimes, even if that which is collected is not often used. Can it not exist or be held simply for the sake of what it is, without being tied to purpose? Just a reflection of my persona there.
I've been thinking of writing something entitled "This World and I":
a wisp on the wind; a leaf blowing away while the cold forces its way in,
carried aloft while flapping its wings; dreams, nearly lost, starved and paper thin;
paths they've tarried seem not like ones I can follow, ambitions they have seem
to me but foreign and hollow; loving the dollars and cents, grasping for power and
pence; my hold on this ground is tenuous at best, any moment its liable to give way
letting me be free of its gravity and at last finding of rest; I don't have the internal
flicker or frenzy, to prize myself for honor or respect to eyes not of mine directly;
my naysayers may say nay till they've reached their death beds, their words were
only ever echos from places unpaved, apparitions of coffins left unclosed; alas,
this understanding leaves me little company, outside of culture and a stranger to
society; I might reach here and there for someone to understand me, but too
often those attempts remain doors shut, holding par in the stead of tragedy; really
I find it to be about wavelength, never finding another one with the same strength,
hitting or missing, games of Russian roulette going on in the head; fortunately for me,
games they remain, never costing me an arm or leg, but simply a heart I can only
pay willingly; it is the price of admission after all, one can never be half-cocked or
stand half-tall; inevitably, my orbs turn to the future, a future I can't imagine,
studded with beauty and happiness at levels I can't quite fathom; a Hur, perhaps,
one I might toast with a wine hitherto unknown, delicious and peerless, beheld by
one with a glow, laced in silk, a sight befitting of thrones; such is the road painted by
my imagination, a thing this world could never offer without being strangled in
limitation; conformity is all they ask, a gift I can never give, enormous is its price,
when all I long for is without fetters to live.
Alhamdulillah, I got the chance to talk to the friend referenced in my last post. We levelled things out, and eventually I could find nothing at fault in his observations. If I see a blue colored fish and I call it a different shade, am I wrong for calling it as I see it? I do not think that is the case, so what's done is done, and iA we both move forward with better understanding.
In other news, my dream machine PC is finally finis. The OS finally got activated, after some hassle with the product key (why a new, legit key would have issues is anyone's guess). It looks so awesome just sitting there, now I wonder what I'll use it for lol, games?!, but surely there's something out there, more productive, that could use all those gigs of RAM and giga's of CPU hertz. It's all good. I find lots of gratification in simply being a collector sometimes, even if that which is collected is not often used. Can it not exist or be held simply for the sake of what it is, without being tied to purpose? Just a reflection of my persona there.
I've been thinking of writing something entitled "This World and I":
a wisp on the wind; a leaf blowing away while the cold forces its way in,
carried aloft while flapping its wings; dreams, nearly lost, starved and paper thin;
paths they've tarried seem not like ones I can follow, ambitions they have seem
to me but foreign and hollow; loving the dollars and cents, grasping for power and
pence; my hold on this ground is tenuous at best, any moment its liable to give way
letting me be free of its gravity and at last finding of rest; I don't have the internal
flicker or frenzy, to prize myself for honor or respect to eyes not of mine directly;
my naysayers may say nay till they've reached their death beds, their words were
only ever echos from places unpaved, apparitions of coffins left unclosed; alas,
this understanding leaves me little company, outside of culture and a stranger to
society; I might reach here and there for someone to understand me, but too
often those attempts remain doors shut, holding par in the stead of tragedy; really
I find it to be about wavelength, never finding another one with the same strength,
hitting or missing, games of Russian roulette going on in the head; fortunately for me,
games they remain, never costing me an arm or leg, but simply a heart I can only
pay willingly; it is the price of admission after all, one can never be half-cocked or
stand half-tall; inevitably, my orbs turn to the future, a future I can't imagine,
studded with beauty and happiness at levels I can't quite fathom; a Hur, perhaps,
one I might toast with a wine hitherto unknown, delicious and peerless, beheld by
one with a glow, laced in silk, a sight befitting of thrones; such is the road painted by
my imagination, a thing this world could never offer without being strangled in
limitation; conformity is all they ask, a gift I can never give, enormous is its price,
when all I long for is without fetters to live.
1.05.2012
- in the name of Allah -
Alhamdulillah, a new year has begun. As one might expect, as time passes, change becomes inevitable so it is usually better to embrace it and ready for it, than to spend a lifetime fighting it. Of course, keeping those changes for the better is always recommended.
Something that happened recently has been causing me some consternation, so I figure once I allow form to those thoughts, a solution might arise.
While having a deep conversation with a good friend of mine, he used puzzling terminology to describe some of my past behaviors. For reference, there have been times where we got into heated discussions about various topics, whether philosophical or practical, and I became so emotional that I would cease speaking of it. However, the weight of the topic would be so great, that I would resort to writing out my thoughts, as I am doing here, in order to properly convey my point/message. He could never understand why I was unable to simply give voice to those thoughts directly, why I could not just come out and say them to him. My answer was that I found the situation too infuriating/frustrating to speak coherently enough in such a state. I felt communication like that would be futile on my part.
His reply to that was that he thought my behavior resembled that of a woman, as no male person he knew had ever behaved in such a way.To truly grasp his sentiment, one would have to know that the friend in question was a relative isolationist, a self-professed "Vulcan" who had suppressed his emotions pretty much altogether from around high school onward (he is of a similar age, currently mid-late 20's). While offended by the unintended insult, I found it amusing that someone who inherently had such small emotional/empathetic capacity, would feel compelled to describe someone else that way. If I have a doctorate in physics, can I presume to tell someone who has a doctorate in medicine that his diagnosis of a patient is abnormal? Where does the "right" to speak on/from a completely different subject/background come from? Could a "Vulcan" have similar emotional capacities as a "Betazoid"? If not, and that would be logical to assume, then how in the hell can this "Vulcan" feel his notion of the "Betazoid"'s actions is even remotely plausible? I hope the frustration can be sensed through my words here, right in between the lines.
It should be noted that I know people, especially these days, love to speak on topics about which they know nothing or have little understanding/empathy for. However, one should feel safe in assuming that such ignorance from very close friends is something to be free of. Too much to expect? Probably; it is not something I am sure can solved quite so easily. At times these difficulties in bridging the gulf between my friend and I seem to bring into question the friendship itself. How important are commonalities in human relationships? Are they overstated or understated?