- 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). 

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'.

- 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.

- 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.

- 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.

- 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.
~

- 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.

- 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?

- in the name of Allah -

Been a short while since my last posting, seems like forever as usual. As one my expect, I approach crossroads almost daily, sometimes making deals (a la Supernatural) and sometimes failing. I can't help but rhyme even when its sense is waning...ahhh, all of this is rhyming lol. t_t

The following is a something collected from about a month ago, and finished up just now. I need thoughts and prayers from everyone, please! May Allah reward all who do so with better, ameen.

(untitled)

These are the times, these are the ways, when vanities fall and get caught in the shade.

Aftermath after the fact, divisible indeed by 0 though it tramples on math,

Past the numbers and nature’s laws, I’m stuck in the teeth of a timeless tiger’s jaws.

Evident, inescapable, inevitable: “fate”, a spidery thread, woven in waves interminable,

An excuse, at times, for mistakes and inadequacies, misunderstandings and overstated fallacies.

Having its wings have broken and caved, which road follows the moth in order to be saved?

After all, there are so many candles, so many flames, burning brightly, promises of burial in suede,

Almost as if in its ending, life would carry more options & choices than its beginning.

Surprised I’m not, but cynics typically aren’t, still holding ideals while their antithesis remains apparent.

Please then consider, how the world is all a-twitter, a-bound and abased in spite all its glitter,

Futures of minerals and mammals on markets exchanged, taking guarantees from tomorrow for today,

One rich man’s life becomes worth a million of poor, after collateral damage the total is just a bit more.

…

I wish I could blame all of this infamy on my birth, but without all those choices I made, I’d remain just a drop of semen falling to earth. From dust I was made, and to dust my bones return, where my end is I can only hope, just wishing the path there wasn’t so damned absurd.

/end

- in the name of Allah -

Strange times, these, when the mind can see paths clear as day and every thing, every piece of the puzzle of life falls right into place. No, my dunya is not settled; no, my wife is not found; no, my career has not materialized; no, I have not discerned the next step for me to take. Yet, what is this clarity I can speak of, if none of these are not on that path?

I think I have approached some irrefutable truths in life, truths I had not known before, but are critical in order for me to continue my progression in life.

Firstly: sometimes the brightest lights can only be seen from the darkest of depths. We cannot appreciate what tawakkul means until we are (or see a point) far removed from it. What is "tawakkul"? It is the Arabic term for 'reliance unto God', in all affairs. It is a sacred trust, that the believing servant invokes with He Who created him. I have difficulty imagining that I have the ability to affect every single change or wish in life - rather, this is frankly impossible. I do not possess neither the power or faculty for that. If I cannot do everything for myself, shouldn't I have a source of reliance, wherewith to place all of my fears and insecurities and wonderings? I could not have it any other way, and I find it unimaginable that there exist people in life who live as though they rule the ground on which they walk. Surely, that very same earth beneath their feet might not crumble or quake or explode in volcanic fury, right? Guarantees they have against it I'm sure; delusional, to say the least. Once we internalize the whole of our weakness, is when we can begin to find strength in reliance.

Secondly: There is the rope of Allah, and then there is the chain of the shayateen (devils). A rope is generally made as a means of assistance, carrying things, and pulling them up. A chain is generally made as a means of restriction, punishment in limiting one's freedom and mobility. Interestingly, a rope can also choke whereas a chain can also give lift in times of need. The parallels are chilling once I thought about it. Either one has a rope connected to Allah, or one is bound by a chain to a shaytan. The key is not to confuse one with the other, and not fall into any extremes which might lead to being bound by that which was supposed to save. How can one know which is which? If it leads you back to God, it is the rope; if it leads you back to yourself, then it is the chain. By leading back to yourself, I mean essentially that it serves its purpose by being a means of fulfilling its own wishes, vanities, whims. Even more interestingly, chains can be very well adorned, such as with jewelry and the like, so they may appear attractive and worthy of the wearer. Alas, they would not be, just fool's gold and a desert's mirage. Either you are reminded of your own subservience to God, or you are reminded of your own ego, slave to either the Creator or your own nafs/id. Sometimes a chain is not evident until it is too late, and it has wrapped itself around its wielder tightly at the time of death. Thought to be a source of pride and dignity in the face of men, it would be just a cement block dragging one down to the deepest depths. Conversely, a rope can easily cause burns if it moves too fast, or become a noose should extremes be approached. Unlike chains, ropes are generally not fanciful, and are unadorned with anything pleasing at first glance. Still, its long-term utility is far more preferable than the inevitable imprisonment offered by the chain.

iA, my words haven't obfuscated the meaning and message I intended.

- in the name of Allah -


I have yet it seems to solve the mysteries of my being. Instead of going outward and seeking answers, I've lately just enforced a no-fly zone around my life, trying to keep all the dissonant forces out. Needless to say, this kind of embargo can't work and definitely can't last. Ironic as it seems, I yearn to be with and around people as I ever have, so this epoch does not appear to be as past ones, where isolation was sought for the sake of isolation.

How do people resolve their differences with life? How I wish to live and let live, is not something found often or ever in this life, and the few times I have tried assimilating, it has seemed almost a borg-like invasion of myself by every worldly impression trying to remove my identity and stamp its own in my place. I am definitely from this life, there are many I love and who ground me here, yet for all of that, I feel like I have never belonged in a time, a place, such as I do now. Before I might have said I felt I belonged to the most perfect of places, Jannah, but now I know with certainty that I'm far beneath such stature.

How much should people compromise with life, with their peers and bosses, to find that balance between self-expression and external structure? How many 'harsh realities' do we allow to substitute for our own ideals? How long do we hold on to these ideals, though like the rope mentioned in this blog's title, it might burn the hands of its holder?

One of my primary wishes out of life used to be finding a wife and being married. After a handful of failed attempts at this, and watching numerous other marriages either suffer or fall victim to gross inequity, I wonder just how far gone 'marriage' has become in society these days. Is it a toy, with which we play upon choosing, letting go when bored or found difficult? Of course, this is hateful to me. I still only wish to be married for me, not for any other reason. Alas, fathers of many a daughter see this singular desire as inadequate in securing their daughters' futures. The fact that such a logical, understandable objection on their part leads me further down into my foxhole of perceived rebellion and dissonance from the norm does not give cause for any celebration. I should be able to empathize with their position, to take the mantle of provider and guardian with gusto. Yet, I feel those positions of theirs are reinforcements of the very ideological constraints I hate and feel are uselessly imposed by weak, timid minds fearing the worst and unwilling to give time for hope to blossom. Should we have all the answers before we go for a test, or must those answers at times be found on the spot? Why do people insist on living in their own realities when it comes to their personal actions (and reactions), yet when spoken to plainly would champion causes of self-determination and manifest destiny?

I think I understand the rationale, but I do not yet accept it. Reasons as to how and why I should will always be appreciated.


~~~

Clouds and their rain, tears streaming down my mind's face, epically entrained, imagined beyond time or space,
rules just golden lances, pretty but of emotion hapless,
burst these bubbles, slowly let drift,
foam of oceans, count the short shrift,
questions abound in every eddy, answers arrive as typhoons aplenty,
the best road at treacherous depth, wisdom's pearls long safely kept,
drown or wallow, risk in both of waters deep and shallow,
truths buried perhaps too far beneath, praying for a soul not far out of reach.

- in the name of Allah -

Been fighting over and over the same battles, so long that I thought I'd finally had them all handled, fooled I was, trodden and close to trampled, but look around - take a sample: all from the basic formulas that just keep on slipping through the cracks, in my fingers and hands, the gist of it all to make rights from wrongs and realities of dreams. How many times will I think I've figured me and this life all out, before come these thunderstorms to drown surety all away with doubt? Even as I fight time's passing in my own mind by thinking I have some left, the hourglass tips backward, broken, bereft, the grains being blown away by ideals unkept. I'm a fool, naive, thinking still to hold my own against society, against communal forces that shrink and shrivel persona until it bleeds the same colors and wears the same sleeves. Who am I, what is me, that dares make bold claims, thinking truth and what people need to hear are one and the same? How many fallacies will I have tripped over before I can finally see, discerning in this shrouded path my destiny?

My only company remains, prayers and pleas, eternally unchanged: to save others but also for myself to be saved, to gather hope in a jar and keep it from thieves and assassins afar, to hold tight and near my beloved and friends and parry for them all worse intent, that no matter how far I stray from the Straight Path my Rabb has both my hand and my back, carrying me when I can only falter and granting me roof when I've shunned all shelter, ameen...ameen...ameen.

- in the name of Allah -

Overcast skies, burdened with rain, not yet falling but imminent any day, cloudy but promising, wondering how long and which way. Some threads I've held on to since my beginning, slowly shrinking, disintegrating, the anti-matter of reality with its penetrating beams of 'be-like-me-or-perish' - a fallacy at best to be sure, but unquestionably for now a perilous cancer to me without cure. Glass houses, idealism at its finest, crashing and collapsing every so often, soon I'll be without any molten base material to make more and be left houseless and mentally dampened.

I dislike pessimists, yet falling into such traps is a perfect devil's hampering. Caught in my own webs of personal conceit, unable to find a mirror for the life of me, wondering if I'm now villain or hero or beast, where's the U-turn on this remote to rewind these crumbling scenes? I want to muster love but can find no object, having always searched for someone to carry and fill my other half since the time I started without regrets. Speaking of which, they're (those regrets) are piling up high now, asking their own questions, poking and prodding, chasing after my potential lost without will to protect or invest in.

I need prayers and a fresh rope, one not nearly burned out, but full of light and hope, not shrouding in darkness or becoming even remotely heartless, but vibrant and strong enough to lead me past these times into a death worthy of life and purpose.

- in the name of Allah -

As a sort of addendum to my last posting, my battle against the force of me that leans toward daylight and the force that leans toward nighttime continues (guess which I'm referring to, should be obvious I think). Having chosen night shifts as my main time of work is not really helping matters. I am truly in a state of flux and confusion.

Cracks, seams, sieves, slowly opening up things that bleed, arteries and veins, letting precious drops of life slowly leave. Where are my bandages whereby I may stop those silent thieves, disguised as advisers but apparent as deceivers and covert contrivers. My path is obvious but thorny, my vision shaken and my mind dulled and confused, the narcotic of allure continues its drip despite all my efforts to stem its melodic rhetoric. My guard lulled to sleep, my sense of day put to sloth, tiny little devils creep inside and leave easter eggs to find for me. People tell me I can control this, that I can choose when to rise or when to take rest, but what of the test when the body betrays the soul and goes off on its own? Likewise, when alert and awake, my soul does what it wills without contest, regarding not the duty to its flesh, fleeting ambitions of flames not worth even mention by name. My greatest enemy yet I fear is still me, illusions trapped in solidified crystal, deemed to be immaterially superior and still beneficial. If and when my illusions shatter, how would their matter be put back together finding form from whence they'd scattered? Without a shadow's doubt, all I will have, as I ever did, is my Rabb's grace holding my good in place, while slowly the worst and most evil is drained away. Here's to praying these fires are cathartic and blessings only felt painful but definitely helping and need-fulfilling. Ameen...

- in the name of Allah -

The past month has been busier for me personally than the past year. Imagine that.

Alhamdulillah, some things that were my lifelong obstacles have been mainly overcome, namely: I now have a job, alh again. Those things are hard to come by these days, and I am fortunate to be one who is not in dire straights and yet has still acquired a certain measure of stability.

However, I find that certain elements of my persona are clashing with one another. I am at heart one who loves silence and contemplation, and often times this is done by being alone. On the other hand, I love conversing with people to find out what they know and how they feel and to read them as they are, things which usually require one to be around people, and frequent conversation. These 2 things appear as a paradox: how might they be resolved? Advice will be given much reflection iA.

Once I have recharged my batteries, I'll come back here to post something of my poetics iA.

- in the name of Allah -

As the days and weeks and years slowly pass before my eyes, I am brought to sorrow for tears I cannot yet cry. A heart closed, made of stone, preserved underneath an icy throne, makes for such a regrettable tale: the loveless story of a simply mindless drone. I wonder when I'll ever catch again that whiff, to love or even hate, to be carried along such strong emotions adrift. Injustice abounds, contradictions everywhere, trying to find my place alongside people who sell themselves to fit as cogs in chains that shouldn't be there. Bound, eternally or for now, I wish I knew, every other thought I have is how I'm being held down and cannot escape from this prison I've been made in. I know the answers of imaan, but I cannot feel their strength, my other half is still missing, a desert in the ocean starving for heartfelt rent.

- in the name of Allah -

So October rolled right on by and I turned 25, but yet I didn't make a post here that entire time. What a strange life indeed.

The job search continues, though I've had now a few interviews at one place, alhamdulillah. It looks like the people there like me, so that might work out; part time in the beginning and maybe full time down the road. Perfectly fine with me that is.

I really wish I could reach out to people more often. Not so much as to communicate what thoughts I myself hold, but rather to take in different perspectives that would freshen ones already stale. Among other news, I have found that I cannot let go entirely of all of my idiotic idealism that I had held in years past. A longing that grows ever more chasmic doesn't really let that be possible. What kind of soul would match my own? I have no idea.

Along my tedious journey in this life, I come across blatant madness and hypocrisy in the news cycles every now and then. Israel's government still says it wants peace but refuses to stop taking over Palestinian land and building new settlements. It's pretty obvious by their actions they only really intend to force out the Palestinians from every meaningful or close to meaningful peace of land in the old holy land. Why do people purposefully allow the injustice to continue? Are AIPAC's dollars so important to politicians that they would overlook the suffering of a people because it did not suit their interests? If basic human morality was not enough of a motivation, those kinds of people should remember that karma will catch up to them sooner or later; Hell wasn't made for just anyone after all. So much in media is done for the sake of display and showing off. When will people realize the failing in such self-serving and vain endeavors? Being true to everyone else but one's own self is the biggest delusion possible, and the longer it takes to recognize that, the deeper the regret becomes at the end. /end_mini_rant

In other news, I want to write something poetic. Maybe I will soon, iA.

- in the name of Allah -

for the petal that got away

Years past since things have happened, what's changed?
I'm still wandering, aimless at times, with ambition chained.

I reached, I hoped, I desired, but it all fell flat,
For I was young, ignorant, knowing not this from that.

All I had was a singular vision, a name on the horizon,
One I thought peerless, a perfect complement to my amalgam.

Before then I had longed, and since then as well,
But nothing would compare, as much as I could tell.

What dreams have you dreamed, what sadness have you endured,
Where I couldn't give breath to your wings, washing your gleam till it was pure?

As I had wished back then, your life has moved along,
Holding back at last no happiness, making right all its wrong.

We're all only human, living out our fleeting lives,
But still, for failing my heart back then, I can but apologize.

- in the name of Allah -

Sometimes to my being I can find no rhyme or reason, no obvious explanation or even covert meaning, things fall into and out of focus - a slipstream of semi-consciousness without end or observability. What are my fears that are consuming me from within, that prevent my growth and leave me subject to wind and whim? My job is not yet found, my soul seems left to wander, hating a world so full of contradictions, beauty and ugliness, love and hate, barely peace but plentiful war, selflessness but overflowing selfishness, demands of others yet none else's rights fulfilled, where ends this madness that's so deeply instilled? I think this is why I was so reclusive in the past, why I'd use to rather spend weeks on end, seeking in my imagination, where so easily I could tell foe from friend. In the "real" world, people's fallacies become just that much stronger and well-founded, they tell themselves their lies so often they are as illusions but compounded. How can I exist in such a world? Lies are hateful, treachery despised, scratching and clawing for material gain seen as more harmful than good, where do their paths lead them? I must fall in line, or so I think, and become a cog in that chain, seeking my little slice of pie, ready on the dime to fall or feign for another's deign. I am my own clown, my own puppet, barely able to dance to my own tune, how then could it sound right for me to sing a thing so untrue? I swear, the incongruities between myself and life only seem to grow with each passing day, as bills and material concerns press their hold upon my fray. People taste wealth, then they go mad over keeping it and gaining more and more, is this the road for me I want in store? The only care I've ever cherished, the thing most ever lasting, is a path to Jannah, with everything else but a window shop in glancing. Do you know what's there? What lies in wait in those gardens?: Endless shade, endless pasture, limitless contentment, limitless rapture; who could ever choose against such a trade, only by giving up so little to their only Master? I think I seek that spiritual path, but this world demands me of its materialism, caught between in rift not quite at all forgiving. Imagine then that I'd love my wife, want to give her all of good and nice, but how would I such a path go on, were it not on paper dollars drawn? How many women in the world, need less fortune, need less fame, to seek a path to spirituality plain? My reservations are plenty, my ambitions few, I stumble along this winding road, unsure of what I truly need not do.

- in the name of Allah -

You and I, we're like flowers from two different seasons, blooming out of turn but fiercely with good reason. Our collision course just doesn't seem fated, at least not yet, as my path becomes a little thorny, what wisdom and sorrow combined might beget. At times it seems my place in life cannot mature fast enough, that I am too slow in catching its scent, that this fog that surrounds me every so often prevents my moving from one evolution to the next. If I were the moon, and you were the sun, we'd both rise in the same sky, but out of phase as one just ended and the other just begun. The depths of me, wherein the heart and its own rhythm reside, tarry to their own drums, not always a choice of mine. Where some things pull, and others might push, seeing myself in you is just insane for me, even if nothing's so far been rushed. They say girls mature faster than boys, but men sooner than women, am I right or wrong in this?, or have I just let the pattern become without thought unwoven?

- in the name of Allah -

Looking forward while holding back, sometimes I wonder: just where am I at? I feel like I've moved past who I used to be yesterday, picked up the strands from tomorrow, but what is this shade I'm sensing, that's got me staring down a barrel short and narrow? Self-created anxieties, propelling myself out from within reality's endless beckoning, it's so much effort at times I think I'll just recede..let the clouds come back in play, take away the sunshine, take away the day..giving me back to night, back to when whim and mindlessness held sway. Though the path might be there for me to take, finding a better road in the mist ahead, how can what I am now be enough to clear me of dread? If anyone besides myself knew the extent of just how feeble my will could become, just how many circles my soul had once trod, they'd say I was one stuck in rewind, fated to play back only too late in time. I have purpose, like I've always had, like I've always felt, but now, none of what happens is in my hands: filling out forms, handing in resumes, the next step in my life has been just one long breath, till now delayed. It's almost deja vu, except I'm supposed to be wiser, supposed to fill in the blanks once my hopes held water, but with a glass near empty and a crack in the side, I'll have to make myself a new pitcher, if at least to parry the tide..



Wow, so that was what comes out after not having written in so long. At least calendars don't lie when it comes to being older. ><

- in the name of Allah -

Alhamdulillah, I passed! I feel a bit lighter now...

- in the name of Allah -

So, here I am again. Perhaps to chronicle the development (or devolution) that's happened since the last time I posted. I can probably best sum things up by listing the things I've noticed and felt over the past month or so.

1. Some bridges don't need to be burned before being left behind. Sometimes, they just decay and fall apart all by themselves. I've noticed that many people I once knew now longer know me, or retain any connection to me. The same is certainly true of myself and others, but its more poignant when I bring my perceived isolation to the forefront. While I have a few great friends, people worthy of being called brothers, I realize that the sisters I knew (Islamically speaking), are fewer and much farther in between now. I used to (be able to?) chat online with so many different people over such diverse backgrounds over this past decade. However, it seems that aging has had an effect on me. I can no longer categorize my relationships with women in simple terms of friendship and potentiality (a term I just thought of to denote people who may be suitable to marry). Things are just too complicated. It's kind of sad. I really enjoyed knowing them. I wonder if I should ever find any such connection(s?) ever again. Allah would know better than I.

2. Some things, no matter how much we want them, may still lie out of our grasp. This board exam is truly kicking my butt. I've taken it a few times, and probably because I cannot devote half the time I 'should' to its study, I end up having difficulty. I feel like its all in my head, that should my mindset or approach towards it change, I can overcome it. However, when or how this would happen, I have next to no idea. Self fulfilling prophecies and the like just haven't been good for me lately, as the most frequent emotion that accompanies me is self doubt: doubt of my intentions, doubt of my worth as a human being, doubt of my ability to affect change in myself much less other people. These are weekly tangents I approach with some evenhandedness. It's not usually to the point of depression, but I'm sure the point can be made without having to mention it directly. I can only really continue to pray and seek Allah in some sort of path out of this cloudy time.

3. Sometimes, you really don't have to face the most obviously difficult moments, to find yourself in a truly trying time. For instance, now. I have the basic amenities the 'third world' would clamor for. I have things people dream of, and yet the greatest obstacle, which for all of them is outside of themselves (hunger, poverty, socioeconomic turmoil, etc), for me is my very own self. From how I see life, I do not think there can be anything more resilient to being overcome than the nafs. Being a part of the human being, it never really goes away. It questions, it rebels, it doubts, it hungers, it flies, it sleeps, it loves everything but what it needs most. In sum, the greatest enemy I'll ever face, aside from Satan, who is my nafs' most potent ally, is me. I should take more lessons on overcoming the self. It could really do some good.

~~~

- in the name of Allah -

Sometimes when I look down, peering at puddles past, it all seems so small, such a melancholy round. An earth with no neighbors, out of touch from other kinds of life, struggles alone, carried by a dream and hope inside. So many little pieces and puzzles, fitting and flitting, whirring and whizzing, meshing while totally mistaking, where's their direction? Such small desires, a plate of warm food on a cold night, the familiar scent of a familiar sight. Where's my cue in all this hectic hither-tither, to push or pull, to lay down my arms or pull the trigger? So many road signs, posted just below the vision, just out of sight, just about taken for granted, while people, including myself, run around pretending we're prophets of times past, our Tablet being our forsaken inhibitions.

Oh God, Oh Allah, Oh Fashioner of the Heavens and Earth, Oh Everliving, Oh Everlasting: I beg thee - save me from my self, from all of this. Ameen.

- in the name of Allah -

Of all the idiotic things I've ever read in the news or television, this has to be right there at the top. When you read this, remember the title of the article: "Islamic Solidarity Games cancelled over Gulf dispute".

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/8465235.stm

They cancelled the "Islamic Solidarity Games" because the Arabian states wanted the Gulf referred to as 'Arabian'...not 'Persian' as it was called by Iran.

What the f*ck is that about? So much for solidarity. So much for idiotic "Muslim" countries even pretending that they're supposed to Muslim brothers. God, what a bunch of fucking retards. /pardon the language.

- in the name of Allah -

As the heaviest snow I've ever seen falls outside, I'm reminded of something I read in a book recently. It was a supplication where the Nabi (saw) asks Allah to wash his sins with "water, snow, and hail". I can't say I've ever thought of snow or hail having purifying qualities, but looking at simply how beautiful and marvelous it looks outside, I can kind of understand. So how does beauty lend itself to purification? Like how on the Day of Judgment everything would be destroyed and remade anew, that is sort of what snow does. Since its so cold, not many bacteria can thrive in it, if any. When it melts, it becomes water which washes away whatever it was frozen over. All of the grass, pavement, dirt, even the trash thrown carelessly on the ground by people, all of it gets covered and hidden, and only a cold, powdery blanket of snow is seen.

It's really marvelous when you think about it.