- in the name of Allah -


Almost 3 months, yet it feels like much longer since I last wrote. Maybe I can put into words again my present state and fill in the gaps between then and now. 

The inevitable gulf of disillusion between how I see the world and how it is wont to be reflected by a semblance of "Islamic" idealism seems to grow only larger. Just as the conflicts on the world stage, namely middle eastern and african, seem only more grinding and endless. The world just slips farther and farther down the rabbit hole of its own desires and destruction, as selfishness replaces virtue ad inifinitum and ultimately those who care can do little else besides defend their own little corners of the pie. 

It is strange, there is no sense of depression I have in myself, as I might have in times past. There is only a growing sense that the bridge between what I see and what I long for will never be built for as long as I draw mortal breath. This leads me to finding myself almost entirely absent any true wishes or goals of a worldly sense. The irony is, I cannot even long much for a blissful afterlife at this point; the fabric of the heart which allows it to stretch and encompass any or all impediments to its desire's fruition...looks to be ripped beyond repair. For me, if I cannot long for a thing, I find myself unable to follow the road to its acquisition or have sight to see it clearly. The most basic gift in this predicament is the fact that many of my most intrinsic qualities align by nature towards a fairly religious, 'virtuous' tint. So that most whatever good I find myself doing is because it is what I would myself ordinarily do, not a self-commanded compulsion towards a commandment from Allah.

Part of the issue has always been a strong sense of not quite belonging in this place, in a world where not only do injustices roam free uncontested, but also when cultural dispositions are too deeply ingrained with personal egos, so that a previously well-intentioned act or idea is tainted with a baser human-ness. For years past counting, I have been an opponent to culture and the kinds of things it imposes on people who make claim to it. A few times, I thought I had won the war; to my dismay, those small victories were merely battles, and now looking over it all, I see that the vastness of culture will win out far longer than my short lifespan. It will win the war. 

And so, my place as I see it diminishes beyond anything I can share or show others. My little corner of the universe isn't very large or difficult to describe, but when a person's aspirations become so far and distant from those around him, then there is no convergence on the roads of understanding, only a series of re-appearing forks. I have subconsciously (and now consciously) adopted fairly asocial/aloof tendencies, presuming that because the road I take is not one that can be shared, pitstops of socially-constrained visitation are superfluous. There are some inevitable exceptions, such as family and those I encounter in work/life. Epiphanies do still come, though perhaps more rarely now, but it can supposed that such as one to lead me from my disillusion exists and may yet follow.

Still, the name of 'Nomad' could not be any more fitting.