- in the name of Allah -

From the bottom of my soul, it’s calling me home, but I can’t quite go, not now, not yet, not while I still owe fate some debt, some good or some penance, enduring itself a sentence, just pray time left isn’t held against my records. Sadness tries to well, up like a spring, but it has no coil, no ties to heart or its strings, just an empty vaporous thing, absent substance from sky or soil. Sleep’s not far off, maybe so too dreams, here’s to this Road, with the best yet unseen.

- in the name of Allah -

On the Nature of Beacons

At its essence, the quality of a beacon is that of a shining light against a dimmed background, just as stars might be used by travelers during nighttime to aid in navigation. For me, there are two main properties that describe what a 'beacon' means. 

First, there is that of Guidance. This tends to be the most obvious, as my first filter asks me what I'm called towards: is it to good, towards the wise, the permissible? While this is and always has been a necessary initial quality, I've found that after its discovery it takes a bit of a back seat to the second quality. After all, what good would Guidance be if it didn't seek to be perpetual? 

That assumed, the second property of Hope comes into being. Something can be a call to Guidance, yet not necessarily a reason for Hope to exist. Not every signpost on the road is one that gives the traveler anticipation that the end of the journey is near, or that there is something to look forward to. What makes beacons unique from typical mechanisms of Guidance is the ability to cultivate Hope both in the present, as an emotional/spiritual nearness, but particularly for the future's conclusion, for the end of the road being sought. 

If Guidance was a light showing the way, then Hope may be understood as the pull towards the way. I should mention that people in themselves never suffice for guidance, nor for the nourishment of hope. To conceive of reliance/dependence on a mortal approaches the darkest possible corruption to not just the heart but a person's entire perspective in life. I learned this some years ago. Alhamdulillah, my Wakeel did not leave me to my own wandering, but showed me a path out of it, a path He let me love and find solace in. Back to the point, in the grand scheme of life, the only reliance worth having is upon Allah. Everything else dilutes, everything else corrodes, everything else distorts, until there is nothing left but a command to enter the Fire. May He protect us from ever coming closer to anything but Him, ameen.

It was never really that the beacons sought on their own to be beacons, rather it is what Allah made them as to me. It is part of my nature to be trying to seek guidance, to find the good in whatever situation I find myself in. From those emotionally-immense moments of life, alhamdulillah, I see a road whereby there is no negativity left, rather every experience turns into a chance for me to be called ever closer to Allah. This aspect I ask Him to make firmly of my beacons too, that we turn every difficulty into a reason to seek His guidance and help, not to mention turning every moment of ease into a reason for shukr, ameen. 

- in the name of Allah -


as the ink still flows, so too runs blood in the veins, there's a circle somewhere here, but it's effort enough staying sane. my remedies aren't apathy or eloquence, nor miracles or malevolence, not in indulgence or abstinence, not quite innocence and never ill-intent; just one elixir for me: that of unending patience. I wish I could make tomorrow today, skip all the scenes and lines in between now and then, but my Rabb's decree encompasses all mechanisms and means, so the only road there is the one He places for me. still, I reckon that so long as I live, little slits will keep being made, spill the Red from within so the internal simmer doesn't drive me insane. at times I've wondered if the path is worth the pain, then I recall my intended destination, and I can think of no better trade.

- in the name of Allah 


Of a journey once, upon a Thanksgiving day, went down the route of twenty-nine, to glimpse the fam of Her-Who'll-Always-Be-Named. There it was, somewhere along the Gershwin's Way, hidden in the midst of thirteen thousand twenty-five, a beacon bright to shine, by sadness kept at bay. While the plans of then found not their present,this moment stays in mind remembered, not just for the turkey and potatoes mashed, but for those precious seconds, when nearly whole became two halves.

- in the name of Allah -

From Liveship Traders, Book 2:

_____
      "So. I should just give up now?" she asked mildly. "Just let him spiral
down into madness until the New Traders come to haul him away and chop him up?
What will we say to one another afterwards, Brashen? That there was nothing we
could do, that we never believed it would really happen. Will that make us
innocent?"
     "Innocent?" He was incensed at her suggestion he was somehow responsible
for this mess. "I've done nothing wrong, I intend nothing wrong. I am
innocent!"
     "Half the evil in this world occurs while decent people stand by and do
nothing wrong. It's not enough to refrain from evil, Trell. People have to
attempt to do right, even if they believe they cannot succeed."
     "Even when it's stupid to try?" he asked with savage sarcasm.
     "Especially then," she replied sweetly. "That's how it's done, Trell. You
break your heart against this stony world. You fling yourself at it, on the
side of good, and you do not ask the cost. That's how you do it."
______

- in the name of Allah -


early morning

close my eyes against the sun,
a sea of Red, tides the shores of sight
where things both gone and unmet
converge into Now;
just another trip of mine
along this river Time.

fallen leaves from Autumn's trees
crunch beneath the feet,
laying wreath of faded life
for future's growth of Spring and seeds.

Just as so, my past becomes
a fertile soil,
waiting to be planted
by trouble, with hope, in toil.

visions of forests lush, of -greens more rich than ever-,
this life a 'how' made in trust, of that which grows together.
 

- in the name of Allah -

Sometimes I have to remind myself that strength to continue this journey is not something I can find from people, it comes from my Rabb alone. As of now, while it is mortal breath I take, my beacons can be no more than reminders of Allah. Part of me, the part of the heart seeking its twin, even as it screams in inexpressible yearning, must realize and endure these moments because this is part of the test He gives each person.

Not every trial is the same between people, each individual tastes of that which would try them hardest. One cannot say if another's trial is easy or hard, only Allah knows the extent of it. For me, this is my test. Ya Rabb, forgive me for my weakness and make this passage exceedingly easy for me to survive, allow me to be patient that I find with You all I could ever want and more, quell the longing of my soul with sakinah from You, and leave me never to fend for myself for even a second, ameen.

In a not-too-different train of thought, I had a dream last night about my best friend from middle school, Sami, who passed away a few years ago from sickness (may Allah make his grave and hisaab easy on him, ameen). In the dream, we're sitting with people taking an exam; during the course of it I'm looking on his paper for answers as he'd already finished, and I remember "Surah at-Taghabun" being a key answer I'm looking for. In the dream and after I awoke, I had the sense that in this surah was something especially beneficial for me to learn. It'll be very interesting when I get to its tafsir in a few days inshaAllah, nearly there from my current progress in the Bayyinah "A Concise Commentary" course. Once I finish it, will be posting thoughts and results iA.

- in the name of Allah -


From "Liveship Traders", Book 2: 
_____
     A sour smile twisted Althea's mouth. "No. I don't want to be the wind in
his sails. That's what I want someone else to do for me." She sat up straight
suddenly. "That is ... that didn't come out right. I'm not explaining this
very well."
     Amber looked up from her work to grin at her. "On the contrary, I think
you are uncomfortable only because you have stated it so plainly. You want a
mate who will follow your dream. You don't want to give up your own ambitions
to make someone else's life possible."
     "I suppose that's true," Althea admitted reluctantly. An instant later she
demanded, "Why is that so wrong?"
     "It isn't," Amber assured her. A moment later she added wickedly, "As long
as you're male."
     Althea leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms stubbornly. "I can't
help it. That's what I want." When Amber said nothing, Althea asked, almost
angrily, "Don't try to tell me that that is what love is, giving it all up for
someone else!"
     "But for some people, it is," Amber pointed out inexorably. She bound
another bead into the necklace, then held it up to look at it critically.
"Others are like two horses in harness, pulling together toward a goal."
     "I suppose that wouldn't be so bad," Althea conceded. Her knit brows said
she did not entirely believe it. "Why can't people love one another and still
remain free?" she demanded suddenly.
     Amber paused to rub her eyes, then tug thoughtfully at her earring. "One
can love that way," she conceded regretfully. "But the price on that kind of
love may be the highest of all." She strung her words together as carefully as
she strung her beads. "To love another person like that, you have to admit
that his life is as important as yours. Harder still, you have to admit to
yourself that perhaps he has needs you cannot fill, and that you have tasks
that will take you far away from him. It costs loneliness and longing and
doubt and-"
     "Why must love cost anything? Why does need have to be mixed up with love?
Why can't people be like butterflies, coming together in bright sunshine and
parting while the day is still bright?"
     "Because they are people, not butterflies. To pretend that people can come
together, love and then part with no pain or consequences is more false a role
than pretending to be a proper Trader's daughter."
_____ 


To love and still remain free, being nether enslaved by nor enslaving of, to know and find acceptance in mutual totality ...expounds upon perhaps the greatest wish in dunya I have ever known. Yet time and experience and wisdom and immeasurable guidance from my Rabb have shown it is not a thing to be kept in this life, so everything has become for me a reorientation towards the future, towards the akhirah, towards Firdaus, that I might reach, among other vast treasures and gifts from Him, this one thing to complete both my own self and the ones I love. May Allah guide us always along His road, protecting us from whatever distances from Him, and bringing us nearer to that which pleases Him, ameen.

- in the name of Allah -


Fair November
(a corollary to "Bitter December")

Though the night was cold, myself I found awake,
to search for starry skies in which might diamonds shine,
memories indeed, but now ones of hope and not of pain.

The stars of fair November, of theirs a glow that never ends,
burn they ever onward, a blazing path outside of human sight,
leading past the now and then, into love freed from time.

In these words, inside of every syllable, rests but a single wish,
that your path and road, of heart to home, might be lighter made,
so smiles and peace abound, His will for you to find this shade.

Forgive my stupidity and ignorance, my sloth and indecision,
knowing me was a sawtooth blade, whirring through the chest,
the loss of blood just the start, as it tore past nerve and flesh.

While the past such strain might know, or as scars it may have left,
there's always now tomorrow, waiting to be sought and sowed,
so we might harvest gain from hope, by all the deeds we'd sent.

Among the reasons that such dreams I carry, like immortal seeds,
is to bring forth from your eyes, tears of joy that never dry,
and so you might know, what it is to me you'll always mean.

~~~~~~

Oh Rabb, 
forgive my sentimental nature, 
that it leads none astray,
instead make it for her a guiding star,
so she might know Your Way.

ameen

- in the name of Allah -


In describing myself to another as regards to life, a very fitting metaphor came recently to mind.

Life, the perspectives it tries to engender in people, the attitudes it wants to elicit from people, how entrapped it makes one's vision, all of these things to me make it seem like a bubble. I find myself outside of this bubble, like floating in space around a planet, while people in general are inside this bubble, on the planet's surface. 

When I try to describe what I see or feel from that vantage point, I often find little agreement or understanding or resonance. It is a point of view that confuses more often than clarifies. Ironically though, it occurs to me that death would be like when the bubble is popped, and so the veil from life itself suddenly shatters and the reality of things I'd seen comes to pass for others.

What perspectives does life try to engender in people, what attitudes, how does it entrap? To describe it as an illusion would do a disservice to the strength of its lure. Life as it appears, wants people to engage in it, then wants people to become consumed in it, and ultimately be drawn into only its own concern. It is as some wise person has said, the mirage of water in a desert, or like death in the visage of a woman chased unwittingly by men until she strikes, leading them to dust and ruin. 

Interestingly, this point of view I learned not from a book, nor taught by a teacher, nor picked up anywhere along the way. It is simply a perspective from within me, from my earliest days of recollection. It does more than strike a chord with my fitrah, it is part of it. Part of my dislike of social convention is rooted somewhere along this same axis, that of permanent reluctance to mesh into a bubble that I wish not to belong in. Ironic, the bubbles of sociality should overlap to me with those of life itself.

Where ends the aim for such a bubble-less one? It's why I pursue Firdaus. In seeking a place of belonging, I find nothing better than the pinnacle of peaks, though its caveat is daunting to say the least: the knowledge that I will never be worthy of its entrance myself, that elevation to its selection is based on the hisaab of Allah Who will sort and judge me with knowledge and comprehension that is impossible for me to grasp. Knowing my weaknesses, my failings, my inability to hold 'perfection' in my self from an 'abd's point of view, there is no guarantee that I will find my chosen destination. 

It isn't about guarantees, however. Submission doesn't work based on that. A slave, once accepting of his own servitude, has no more to do with the matter once he has submitted. Even if that submission is imperfect, as it's bound to be, even if his knowledge and grasp are limited, inevitably so, the overall tasleem remains intact so long as his Rabb allows it to be so. Such is the other unknowable caveat: pursuing the will of Allah, even though its scope will not always be apparent, and even though human weakness prevents perfection in obedience. Alhamdulillah though, we were not created as machines but as beings with free will to enable seeking of His forgiveness, such that though falls may happen, in general the state of repentance is a continual one that aims to overshadow one's failings. 

If one was inside the bubble, and sought to get free of it, then what would be the recourse? I would say simply the constant internal reminder that all material and physical things must fade to dust, would suffice. Not only will every human face death, but our physical legacies of buildings and societies and constructs, those will turn to dust too. This life was made to end, in its DNA is a reminder of its fragility and temporal nature, not so that we seek to be submerged by it in its short years we have, but rather so we look up from the soapy scum, and see that there is something after it, something outside of it, something beyond that must be sought, if for no other reason than what comes after is for ever.

- in the name of Allah -


Oh Doubt!

What are you to me? 

When Allah is my Forgiver when I falter,
When Allah is my Strength when I succeed? 

What business have you with me?

When Allah is the One Who sets for all their decree,
When Allah is the One Who calls to account for deed? 

For He it is Who owns me and my hopes, 
my ladder and the Rope.

For He it is Who guides me when sight I lose,
and all other lights fail, 
and from shades of darkness I am to choose.

Oh Doubt, savor of my soul no morsel, it will never be yours,
Allah is enough for all my want and need, 
to leave you starved, and for me from Him Yaqeen. 

ameen




 

- in the name of Allah -

From "The Liveship Traders" - Book 1:
_____
"...Yet when one of you is near, I feel you are woven of the same 
strand as I, that we are but extensions of a segmented life, and 
that together we complete one another. I feel a joy in your 
presence, because I feel my own life wax greater when we are 
close to one another."
Wintrow leaned on the rail, as motionlessly silent as if he were
listening to a blessed poet. She was not looking at him; she did not
need to look at him to see him. Like him, she gazed out across the
harbor to the festive lights of the night market. Even our eyes
behold the same sight, he thought, and his smile widened. There had
been a few occasions when words had so reached into him and
settled their truth in him like roots in rich earth. Some of the very
best teachers in the monastery could wake this awe in him, when
they spoke in simple words a truth that had swum unvoiced inside
him. When her words had faded into the warmth of the summer
night, he replied.
"So may a harp string, struck strongly, awaken its twin, or a pure
high note of a voice set crystal to shimmering as you have wakened
truth in me." He laughed aloud, surprising himself, for it felt as if a
bird, long caged in his chest, had taken sudden flight. "What you
say is so simple, only that we complement one another. I can think
of no reason why your words should so move me. But they do. They
do."
"Something is happening, here, tonight. I feel it."
"As do I. But I don't know what it is."
"You mean you have no name for it," she corrected him. "We both
cannot help but know what this is. We grow. We become."
Wintrow found himself smiling into the night. "We become what?"
he asked of her.
She turned to face him, the chiseled planes of her wooden face
catching the reflected gleam of the distant lights. She smiled up at
him, lips parting to reveal her perfect teeth. "We become us," she
said simply. "Us, as we were meant to be."
____

- in the name of Allah -


One day, by only the encompassing mercy and compassion of my Rabb, when He allows me to stand as a sign of His favor at the doors of His Jannat-tan, my hope is that I will be able to open those Gates for my beacons, though they don't actually need my opening. There, in that place, in the Final Home, that is the place where the seed that was planted long ago and growing by the permission of its Creator, comes time for it to bloom. 

All I am is but a signpost, a creation of Allah that He blessed immeasurably and willed that I inherit love as a mechanism for His hidayah. Love is not an easy concept to purify, it deludes many people from Allah and the Truth He calls people to. But for Him it's nothing more than "Be" and so it Is. My own efforts amount to dust, same as what I was made from. Every good to be found is a rahmah directly and intrinsically from Allah. Every evil from me is nothing but my own inadequacies and weakness made manifest. By Allah's mercy, He allows the better aspect to want to triumph over the lesser, and thus alhamdulillah I can foresee in something so strange a path of guidance. 

Though this medium is intended as a record of my history, to know from whence it was I came, it has also become a star chart that helps delineate by Allah's permission the way forward. May He make it so for any of my ummah who come across it, and especially so for my beacons, ameen.

- in the name of Allah -


Sometimes the clouds release as rain but tears, what the eyes can no longer shed, as the self rebels and wants to put to stake all of me so I too might suffer its hell, but its notions of nonsense and agony, fade into nothing as it finds the jism by patience firmly held. I'm not the doer, just the survivor, my Rabb the Subduer who quells the flameless furor over and over.

And there are times when even the frozen soul shatters, releasing remnants that melt into tears of burdens attempted but left out in the cold unkempt. Rarer still, when those scattered shards sublimate straight from solid to vapor, leaving a trail for ever-known beacons to slowly savor, through the passing of time and changing of seasons, towards a Day both of Judgment and fruition in being.

- in the name of Allah -


out I went to hunt for stars, 
found but only clouds,
seems for that night I'll have to wait,
when they shine without abating. 

the moon hid above that canopy,
keeping from me its ever-welcome glow,
but 'tis I thing which I've long known:
what I seek of hope made reality.

no doubt,
one day, from this dream we'll wake,
one day, from this dream we'll go,
when ends the night and the clouds are clear,
when shines His light, to make complete our soul.