Disco In The Sky, One Love & My Prophet

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52. Distant thunder
I hear the rumblings of a distant thunder
Light is veiled behind a plume of cloud.
But rain is come
The seeker is now the sought
The lover is now the loved
Woe that I was ever in doubt!
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DISCO IN THE SKY. It was a crazy thunder and lighting show in the sky last night. While just finally dozing off at 3am I was awoken by the drums and cymbals of wild nature outside. With my window and balcony door open, the song of a storm trespassed into my room unabated. It was cold too, so me and Mika huddled closer together while outside God's angels were riding bolts of lightning aimed at the naughty Djinns. My only hope is that God's aim is straight and He doesn't send one to burn me to a crisp. I would be quite unhappy if that were to happen.

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I WANTED TO CHANGE MY RELIGION. In my earlier posting I mentioned that when I was younger, I was never a seeker. Implying that I was simply accepting the conventional and incomplete lore of my Islam. But I recall now, one day at the age of 10, I made a life-changing decision to convert to an new religion. Hehehe, well, I didn't actually think much about it, and very soon I forgot about the decision all together. Now I recall that the entire reason for my decision was that I felt that Islam was all about rules and regulations. The faith of the party-poopers and spoilsports. If Love and Joy was ever mentioned, it was normally commented in a very cursory and curt way. I didn't FEEL the Love.

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UMMATI, UMMATI, UMMATI. I believe that the very first inkling I had that perhaps Islam is not entirely devoid of love and passion was from a book. It was a simple book written in Malay about some stories of the Prophet Muhammad. In the last chapter I read how the Prophet faced his very last moments on earth. Attended by the Angel of Death, the Prophet felt the painful throes of his passing, yet in his dying breath, in his last mortal thought, he was not thinking of himself. He was thinking of his nation who shall follow after him in death - worrying how they would face such test at the end of their lives. And the last gasping words that tumbled from his beautifully full and delicate lips were the word, "My people, my people, my people". How I cried like a fool recalling the scene. I was 18 years old. And I found beauty, love, passion and all that is wonderful and delicious in life in the Life of my Prophet.

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I cannot think nor write about this story without tears welling up in my soul. It is an emotion of love, passion, desire and yearning. It is both a joyful and sorrowful feeling. And this, I never asked nor sought. But here I am, with you in this life. Pleading that we all forget our differences and look to the common things that we share. Such as love for our Prophets and Saints, and ultimately love for all messengers of God in whatever disguise that they may be wearing. Just like what Bob Marley was singing about...

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THE PROPHETS ARE NOT AMUSED. If people think that whatever anger, mad violence, assasination and vengeance that they bear upon other people would make their Prophets and Saints smile, then they are just mad. Prophets and Saints are working on a different level and they would be ashamed by the misconducts of their so-called inheritors. They would simply look at the nuisance and terror of religious bigots saying, "I never taught you this. It is not I that is inspiring you, it is your own hubris and ego. Everytime you justify your insanity in God's name, you shame not God, you shame not I, you shame only foolish selves'

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Have a wonderful day, sunshine. For it is your attendance to our one Lord in whatever creed that you may wear, that is keeping me hopeful for all humanity.

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Pax Taufiqa.