Are the Swedish in Heaven? I am going to sub-contract the design of my heavenly mansion to IKEA

LABOUR DAY. It's Labour Day weekend and a long holiday for you and the sinner! I bet there must be millions out there who are thinking..."Hmm, let us visit the Cathedral of Design" and getting into their cars, trains and buses, and heading to the nearest IKEA. What is it about the Swedes that they are so canny with their tinkering hands to turn a spigot or spatula into a work of art? Is it the food they eat? Or maybe the weather? - "Sven (they are all called Sven), it is cold again today. Let's stay indoors and design a table-mat that will take the retail world by storm!"

IKEA CATALOGUE. I mean, just take a look at their annual catalogue for goodness's sake! For me, it is a work of sublime creativity. So cosy, so pretty, both traditional and cool, and ever so subtly sexy in that non-threatening Swedish nanny kinda way. When the catalogue arrives at my house, I would grab it, go up to my room and lock the door, to spend quality intimate moments with my Swedish book of fantasies. The IKEA catalogue isn't just a retail propaganda, my friend, it's a dream-machine. A work of mass market genius.

IF I GET TO HEAVEN, I am going to sub-contract the design work for my heavenly mansion to the Swedes. "Will the Swedish be in heaven?", you ask? Based on IKEA alone, I expect them to be there alright. Hmm... but then again, they are also responsible for VOLVO and SAAB.

Let me get back to you on that.

Have a perfectly wonderful day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

The Two Secrets of Alchemy

8. Philosopher’s Stone II
Deceived and tricked,
They rest their hopes
In transmutation,
Drowning in complexities,
Drifting into conjecture.

Not knowing that
Alchemy is the quest
For gold,
But without the ‘L’.

ALCHEMY is known as the science, or better still the attempt (since nobody has been able to do it!) to turn base metal into gold. Is it going to happen? Well, maybe, who knows? But the fact of the matter is, what happens if you do find the chemical formula to turn iron, tin, copper or bronze into gold? I will tell you what will happen, in a few months time there will be hundreds of factories in China manufacturing gold, and of course, gold itself will lose its value. So that is why I believe that true Alchemy is not the pursuit of the secret of Gold, it is the pursuit of the Secret of God.

THE SECRET. And to save you all the trouble of polishing up on your chemistry, I will share with you today that 'Secret' - Once you are able to replicate or duplicate something unique - then that thing is unique no longer, and the value of that which you perceive and idolize diminishes. And it diminishes not a little, but it diminishes to the point of nothing. So do not think of God in multiples. For God is only One. And the moment you act as if there is more than one God (most normally when we obey our internal devious 'god' - our conniving ego), then that God you worship is not God anymore. For God, like you, sunshine, is Absolutely Unique., So you know... you can go on trying to turn your iron bars into gold ingots, as a form of academic exercise. For the real meaning of alchemy you already know today. Hehehe. No need to thank me.

ANOTHER SECRET. And here's another 'Secret' for you to ponder over breakfast - Whether you are a Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu or Buddhist alchemist, there is only but One God that you will ever find in the formulae and furnace of your laboratory. But you know this already, sunshine!

That's why I love you. Have a perfect Sabbath.

Pax Taufiqa.

Postscript  27th August 2011 - By happy chance, I met Alchemy herself and wrote what transpired. Click here for posting entitled I am Alchemy. I turn base events into gold.

The Fruit Lady and the Lawyer

39. The Lament of Abu Bakar & Then Some
If only I was blade of rye,
About to be cut by a swing of the scythe.

If only I was lost and nameless,
Nothing even to my deceiving self.

Like a book unread,
Gathering dust on the shelf.

This is one of those poems which was posted earlier (Click Here - Anonymity in the Oneness of God, Abu Bakar, Mary and that Descartes Dude). I am a disorganised sinner. You must forgive me for posting a poem or prose one day, and sketching the accompanying drawing in another posting. If I am totally confusing you, trust me that it's totally unintentional.

MY FRUIT-LADY. Well, I am not nothing. I am me. And I bet you are not nothing too. I think that so long as we are not nothing, we gotta make something out of our un-nothingness. Whatever we are doing, we ought to be the best that we can be. Below my office is a fruit seller. A chinese lady who sells slices of guava, papaya, watermelon, jackfruit(sometimes), sour and sweet mangoes, pineapples and wintermelons. Her business model is simplicity itself. Slice the fruits into the appropriate sizes, keep them in a small plastic display with ice blocks to keep the fruits cool and fresh. Then wait for the customers to come. There is nothing to it. But I have been observing how she works. Minimum movements, maximum efficiency with no wasted action as she carefully slices and dices the watermelon with graceful practised strokes. A skill no doubt honed over years of diligence. She works beautifully and harmoniously.

LAWYER? I am a solicitor, and I wonder whether I can say the same about how I work. Do I look beautiful and harmonious too when I am crouched over a contract document? Hehehe. I bet I don't. I would like to one day. But until that day comes, I shall continue to observe and study the chinese lady with her small fruit stall.

Have a fruity day for me, pet.

Pax Taufiqa.

God took away my chance to die young - The Band Perry

25. Skins
It is worrying how some people live life
At odds with the skin that they wear,

It is my life’s hope
To find peace
With mine.

SKINS. Not even the musical company of Louis Armstrong and Aretha Franklin will console you if you are unhappy in the skin you are wearing. I have no problem with the tone of my skin nor the scars that dot me. Its just that I was born with a very large skin. So I had to err... eat a lot and 'expand' to fill up the excess skin. Hehehe. I am not complaining, I am only sharing.

DEATH'S JOKE ON ME. The best joke of it all is that just at the moment I become happy with the skin I am in, Mr. Death may just suddenly appear *Poof* whispering into my shell-like, "Hey, Taufiq ol' chum. Time to go. Say goodbye to your old skin." Well, it may happen... Hu knows?

THE BAND PERRY. Death is not always morbid. How can it be when it can inspire Kimberley Perry to write such a sufi-esque song entitled "If I die young"? Her haunting lyrics begins...

...If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song...

Is it so strange to find sufi songs in Tennessee, USA? Written by a southern belle singing in a American country band? It isn't, sunshine. It is the most natural thing in the world.

God took away my chance to die young, but 41 years old come this July, I have no regrets. Not when I am writing and being read by you, sunshine. Your attendance to my daily almanac makes it all worth it, however and whenever God may call me home. Just like the song's ending, I think "... I have had just enough time..."

Have a nice day, pet.

Pax Taufiqa.
Click here to the Band Perry and 'If I Die Young'.

Your Most Beautiful Profile Is Your Conscience

198. Bright Lantern
If you are given a shining lantern,
But persist in wandering with your eyes shut,
Do not then say to God,
That you are still stumbling in the dark.

This poem was posted earlier in 'The Shining Lanterns, the Mother of All Jihads and the Garden of God" (Click Here). I have always wanted to sketch it though, so here it is, fresh from my pen and pencil. I hope you like it, sunshine.

Life is too good, and too important to ignore our Lantern-Conscience. But as a sinner, I am very good at it. Often I ignore my conscience not because it is impossible, but simply because it is an inconvenience to me. Yes, I can be appalling that way.

Sufis like to say that nothing is trivial, what more our conscience? How I wish I was like that - to be in a state of constant obedience to the flaming lantern that God has lit to brighten our mortal path. But if that wish had come true, your sinner would have already sprouted wings and be playing dominoes with the Archangels right this very moment. And I probably won't be able to blog as often as I can now. And God knows the broadband connection in heaven...

"Taufiq with his endless excuses and pretext!," I could hear an angel muttering behind a cloud. Hehehe.

But seriously, follow your conscience, sunshine. It is your most beautiful profile.

Pax Taufiqa.

The Prophet and the Sinner with the Silver Pen

88. Dear sirs
Dear sirs,
I am a stranger in this land,
And I am looking for my Master.

They say he has died,
Oh, what a foul lie which
They permit their lips
To utter!

Dear sirs,
I am a stranger in this land,
If you know of my Master,
If you know of his whereabouts,
Take me to him, please,

For he is keeping something of mine,
My name, my honey, my sword
And a lantern that burns bright,
Through a fire which burns white
And luminous without need
Of kindling or fuel.

It was Wednesday, the 23rd day of March 2011, when I stepped foot unto the blessed soil of Medina, City of my Master, Muhammad Habibullah. It was the most difficult thing for me to contemplate that finally, I am here. After years of yearning and writing, after years of composing foolish poems that is trying to put into words what cannot be put into words - The love and longing for this man called Muhammad, the clearest and sweetest tears which is forever falling from the eyes of my betters, forming a lake in the valley of souls. There I could see all sorts of angels and heavenly beings take their water, delighting in the manifest love between the Prophet and His Nation. Between Muhammad and you...

Of course, the Master has passed away. There is his Raudah (Tomb of the Prophet) in the Nabawi Mosque, Medina which I myself have visited. But although he has left his physical shell all those many years ago, he is not dead to me. He is very much alive, and I cannot stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, I feel shameful to share these silly feelings. But what am I here for if not to remember and write? And what you do, sunshine - to give your time to me and read whatever is posted in this almanac, that too is no coincidence. For the first fatality in the accident that men call Love is coincidence. After Love - all chance meetings become fate, and all coincidences become our destiny.

When you arrive in your ennobled station, do not forget me, my readers. Pray for the sinner with the silver pen.

Have a lovely day, my friends. Help me make my life worthy of your friendship.

Pax Taufiqa.

A Silly Little Man With Too Much To Say

THIS BLOG CONSISTS OF ONE SINGLE WRITTEN DOCUMENT BUT BROKEN UP INTO POSTINGS. I have noticed that in all the prose recorded by the sinner over almost 8 years (and they are a lot!), I have often had to fight the impulse to continue writing a poem. This is simply, from where I am writing, one story crosses into another story, and on and on and on. You might say that I have written up to now (since July 2010, when I really started getting serious about this blog) only 1 single writing - its just that it has been divided into 299 as of now.

BUT HONESTLY AND TRULY - I am writing about the same thing again and again, it's just that the perspectives are always different… I am describing an apple, but this apple is unimaginably beautiful and forms layer upon layer of infinite meanings. This singular apple is our Maker (aka God) in all His beautiful Attributes. In this picturesque apple is also mankind, resting between the Lord's and the Messenger's Hand, a constellation of stars adorning the night sky between the rising sun of Ahad and the setting Moon of Ahmad. This is how I see you. And this is how I see the world really.

BUT I AM NO HIPPY. You know, this doesn’t mean I am a hippy. I do not have a rose-tinted view of the world. My work itself (I am a solicitor doing mostly corporate work) means that I am daily dealing with rights, privileges, obligations and promises made for money. From my experience there is no such thing as a free lunch in the reality of any commercial enterprises, whether you are running a children’s television show, a fish farm, a design house or a public listed construction company. At the end of the day, it is all about fulfilling our responsibility and differing roles – which in my case would be as a friend, lover, a service provider, boss, father, son, brother and nephew. And I know, it is not the easiest thing in the world for you too.

SO A TOAST TO YOU - For your own present and future success in fulfilling your responsibilities. Responsibilities are not obstacles or even diversions in your search for the meaning of life, love and God. It is the path by which all lovers come to fully comprehend the meaning of love… for isn’t God Ultimately Responsible for us too? So rest your responsibility upon His responsibility for you. And open your heart to those around you who are there to ease your burden and share your every day worries, riddles, exasperation and tears – our beloved family and friends.

Today I open my heart to you, sunshine. It is dusty, cluttered and needs tidying up, but it’s all I have for you. So I hope you can accept me as I am. Just a silly little man with too much to say!

Hehehe,

Pax Taufiqa.

Abu Bakar, Muhammad, the Gunny Sack and Gibrail Part 2 - Satisfaction, Expectations and Attachments

Mikhail, please! I am trying to concentrate...

This is a second part because the toon above is inspired by the poem posted in the earlier writing entitled, "Abu Bakar, Muhammad, the Gunny Sack and Gibrail Part 1 - Origin of Whirling (Click Here).

EXPECTATIONS & ATTACHMENTS. It is nigh impossible for anyone to live without expectations and attachments. But as the prose goes - it is important to place our greatest expectations and our highest attachments to He-Who-Won't-Disappoints. My mistake is always to place such expectations and attachments on worldly things and people. But the only expectations that is almost certainly guaranteed is that the world and mankind will inevitably fail to meet our highest expectations, but not because they are imperfect. For God vouches that we were made perfect. Imperfection 'occurs' when we see this world and its creatures though our ill-formed and rusty sight (Jelaludin Rumi tells me this). But this 'occurances' are only illusions in our heads. The reality of things are perfection and beauty, but we carry the disease of our egos and hubris into the Promised Land - cluttering the view and building chimney shacks that blacken the sky with the smog of our envy and jealousies. As seekers of Secrets and lovers of the Sublime, we must accept our responsibility and account for the feelings that we allow to dominate our actions.

DIVINE SAFETY-NET. So I believe that we are all on the high-wire act - Balancing on a narrow thread of whimsical satisfaction, while carrying our expectations and attachments and gingerly making our way up to Hu-knows-what. Hehehe. But you know, even if we fall (and oh boy, do I fall a lot!), there is still the safety-net of God. So even if we let ourselves down, He won't. Failure is not a Divine Attribute. But my advice is to at least try very hard stay on the wire. Because from my experience, the terrifying sensation of an emotional free-fall sometimes lasts like an eternity before we finally land *ka-plunk* into the Divine Safety-Net.

Have a nice day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

Abu Bakar, Muhammad, the Gunny Sack and Gabriel Part 1 - Origin of Whirling

55. Attachments, expectations and satisfaction
Without attachment
There would be
No expectation.

Without expectation
There would be
No dissatisfaction.

But if you cannot be displeased,
Verily, you can never be pleased,
And was not Abu Bakar
Pleased with God?

So have attachments and expectations,
For that state is demanded of you.

Say... though you find
It difficult still to believe, that...

"I have no expectations but God,
And Muhammad is the
Messenger of my Expectation."

"I have no attachment but God,
And Muhammad is the
Messenger of my Attachment."

THE WHIRLING. It is one story that the Sufis whirl because Abu Bakar whirled. And this is how (it is said) to have happened...

HE GAVE AWAY EVERYTHING. When the Meccans arrived in Medina, the Prophet organised a Baitul Mal (Public Treasure) to provide assistance to the Muhajirins (Literally 'the Immigrants' - meaning the Meccans who followed the Prophet to Medina to escape the persecution by the Quraish in Mecca). Answering the call of Muhammad, the Ansars (Literally "the Helpers" - meaning the local Medinans who are providing support and shelter to the Muhajirins) and Muhajirins both donated whatever they could afford from their wealth or poverty. But above all was Abu Bakar, who donated beyond what he could afford, even down to the clothes on his back. So on that auspicious day, Abu Bakar, most close companion to Muhammad Beloved of God, literally had nothing, not even the clothes on his back.

THE GUNNY SACK AND THE ANGELS. But he can't stay hidden indoors forever, and he wanted to meet the Prophet. So alone in the little house that accommodated him, Abu Bakar happily found some ragged gunny sack and had the bright idea of stitching up some robe or cloth that he may be able to wear. He was unaware that as he commenced his sewing, he was being watched from afar. A congregation of Angels earlier saw him donating everything he ever had, and they were awed by his selfless generosity, "Oh what glorious soul, oh what magnificent specimen of mankind..." they intoned. "What is he doing now?" they puzzled, "Where is he going?" they asked. "He is going to see the Prophet, Muhammad, my brethren...", someone amongst the angelic audience said. "Then he cannot walk alone! Someone amongst us must accompany him!" - the host of God were in a state of high agitation.

GABRIEL AS HIS COMPANION. Suddenly a voice rang out, "I shall accompany Abu Bakar, my brethren." It was the Archangel Gabriel. The rest of the angels silently agreed (Well, who's going to argue with the Boss Angel?).

Abu Bakar was satisfied after he put on his newly stitched gunny-attire. At the very least, I am decently dressed, he thought to himself. He then left the house, but not long in walking he was suddenly accosted by a man, also wearing a similar gunny-sack-cloth. The man (who was in fact Gabriel the Archangel, Herald of the Holy Revelations) inquired gently of Abu Bakar, "Kind sir, where are you going?"Abu Bakar replied, "I am on my way to see Muhammad, Prophet of God". The man then asked whether he could accompany Abu Bakar, to which he consented.

THE QUESTIONS. After awhile, the pair arrived at the Prophet's home and was led to his presence. Abu Bakar was settling down when the his companion suddenly asked the Prophet, "O'Rasulullah (Prophet of God), who is this man?" gesturing to Abu Bakar who looked a little astonished. The Prophet replied, "He is my closest friend, Abu Bakar." The man then said, "O' Rasulullah, ask him, if he is pleased with God." Muhammad addressed his childhood friend, "O' Abu Bakar, you heard his question. Are you pleased with God?" Abu Bakar stood up and replied, "O' Rasulullah, I am ever so pleased with God and what He has granted me, Alhamdulillah!(Praise be to God!)"

GOD'S REPLY. The man acknowledged Abu Bakar's answer and said, "Tell him, o' Rasulullah, that I am Gabriel, and God sends His Greetings of Salam (Peace) to Abu Bakar." Muhammad the Mercy of the Worlds, then turned to Abu Bakar smiling and said, "O' Abu Bakar, God Himself sends greetings of Salam unto you!"

ABU BAKAR WHIRLS. Carried by an overwhelming feeling of happiness, his heart ablaze with God's greetings of peace and entwined by pleasure, Abu Bakar then started to whirl, with his right hand raised and open to receive the blessings of this Divine Pleasure, and his left hand open and extended to pass on the rahmat and baraka (blessings) to the assembled companions, and now today, to me and you as you read this.

Thank you for sharing your time with me, sunshine. I am so happy to share this story with you.

Pax Taufiqa.

The Key to Happiness Now is to Know Your Lord Now - and not after you have shaked hands and rubbed noses with Mr. Death

1. Your Lord is the One and the Unique.
Your Lord is the One and the Unique,
And He is gazing upon you in all time,
In your past, present and future,
In your life and in your afterlife.

Do you think your personality
Will change in your afterlife?

If you feel misery now,
Will you not feel misery later?

If you feel happy now,
Will you not feel happy later?

If God is the Lord of Happiness of the hereafter.
Is He not the Lord of Happiness in this life?
Remember, when He gazes upon you,
It is all of you, you one second ago,
You two years in the future, you in heaven,
You before you were born, you in all times.

If you are sad, depressed now,
If you are fearful,
If your are jealous and full of envy,
If you are intolerant and
Full of miserable curses,
If you find this life untenable,
And that life is unfair,
Are you not denying your Lord’s attribute?
Complaining, “He does not love me,
Otherwise He would not treat me this way!”

So, do think of heaven, if it pleases you,
But remember, here and always,
That you will always be you,
And God will always be God.

And if you find contradictions
In what God is and what God
Appears to do to you,
Then remember, it is you
Who are in contradictions,
And not God.

That is the key to happiness,
To knowing your Lord.

It is good to have your eye for happiness in the hereafter. But if you are unhappy now, do you think you shall be happy after you shake hands and rub noses with Mr. Death? If you are not pleased by what God has granted you right now, will you ever be pleased by what is on offer in the shop windows of Heaven? If you are not satisfied now, if envy colours your world, if jealousy is your master, good heavens, how will you live without them in the next chapter of your soul? I am saying this as a marker to myself today, to remind this old sinner to stop bitching and complaining. And to see in my son's eyes (Mika has a bit of fever and is missing school today) my happiness vouched for me already from the moment my soul was pulled from nothingness till today, and Godwilling for an eternity of todays!

God bless you, sunshine, for all that you are to me.

Pax Taufiqa.

The Sinners' Dictionary - Humanity means...

It is easy to be self-obsessed. I always believe that it is good to take the world seriously, but it is sometimes necessary for us to take ourselves not too seriously. To be able to climb out of our skin, take a good look at ourselves... and smile, laugh or snigger. Really, we are truly amazing in our ability of deluding ourselves and giving ourselves delusions of importance. If we make a mistake, if we commit an error (and who hasn't), isn't it a bright idea to be able to look in the mirror and say, "Taufiq (assuming the name of the culprit is Taufiq), you fool... Now don't you look silly?", instead of saay... beating ourselves on the head and diving into the pit of self-loathing?

I am saying all this because I am prone to both - self-obsession and self-loathing. Someone told me that the trick is to be neither. To live as is, to take things one time at a time, but to be cool and composed at all times. (Is there a prescription drug I can take to be that? Hehehe) But seriously now, We cannot be Superman and we are not Spider-man. We are just human... and sometimes, that is the most hardest thing to be. Human. Which brings me to the Sinners' Dictionary's definition of humanity (wow. I am glad that this rambling posting has a logical end. Hehehe)

73. HU-man-ity
I always believed that
Man was just man.
Until HU came
And changed man into HUman.
Then HU made me see,
That from Ahmad’s single Nur
Came plurality,
Thus, HUman became HUmanity.
..............................

Hu also means 'He' as in God. Ahmad is another name of the Prophet Muhammad. There is some mystical meaning to the name but let's save that exposition for some other time, okay? Thank you for your patience, pet. And may you be a good human being. As always, you lead and I will follow (even if its at a distance and in my normal lazy pace)

Its been a wet (what else) and warm Monday here in Kuala Lumpur. How's your day been, sunshine?

Pax Taufiqa.

Michael Lewis (Wall Street Insider) Mikhail Taufiq (Venture Capitalist) and the Subprime Bust

MICHAEL LEWIS - Wall Street Insider. There is another route, another path to mystical enlightenment which is open to you, Wall Street. In the warped and magical world of subprime mortgage, you may find transcendental formulae and concepts beyond mortal understanding, and certainly beyond reason. Hehehe. It is called greed, and it is the art of creating value from nothing, the 'originating' and 'selling' of junk subprime mortgages (lets just call it loans), ie giving money to credit-strapped borrowers in exchange to their almost certain likelihood of default (made especially more likely with the floating interest rate which would come into effect after the earlier 2 years 7% easy-peasy interest and whack the borrower in the 3rd year of their loan, already struggling to pay off the loan, with a whopping double increase in their payable interest rates). Then these originaters and sellers quickly offload their junk loans to Wall Street banks who then package these loans into securitised debt instruments (ie Subprime Bonds) breaking them up into tranches with differing payment timeline and interest (to attract the high-risk and low-risk investors). The original idea was to give Americans unable to get good credit, the chance to exchange high interest credit card loans to low interest mortgage loans. Perhaps it was a good idea, but the idea has been corrupted almost beyond recognition. I have read Micheal Lewis's first (brilliant and hilarious) book, 'The Liar's Poker' about the crazy 80s which saw the first Wall Street boom in the bond market, and I must say that 'The Big Short' is an excellent follow-up and analysis of the subprime bust.

MIKHAIL TAUFIQ - Venture Capitalist. Mika was in bed one day, when I asked him, "What do you want to be when you grow up, MIka? My son mused for a second before replying, "I want to be a venture capital." What? He reiterated his reply, "A venture capital, Papaaa...". "What the...??", I thought and then ventured a suggestion, "You mean a venture capitalist?" He nodded rigorously, "Yes, yes, a venture capitalist".

I don't think he knows what he's talking about, "Mika, do you know what a venture capitalist does?"

"That's easy, Papa. I borrow some money from the bank, then I buy a shop. Then... I sell the shop at twice the price I paid to buy it. The money I then split half-half with the bank."

Oh my God, I thought. The answer, given by a 7-year old, is quite right. Now I am going to ask him explain to me the arcane science of collaterized debt instruments (Correction 26.04.11 - it should be CDOs, Collaterized Debt Obligations. Apologies, sunshine) and how to offload junk mortgage out of my books and rig my accounts to record unrealized profits...

Are we not always surprised by our children, sunshine? God bless their curious minds.

Pax Taufiqa.

Ask God for God - From the Sinners' Guide to Shortcuts and Cheat Codes

If you happen to bump into Sufis, you will notice a certain habit that they have - They are not satisfied to pursue heaven in the afterlife. Oh no, such things are not good enough for them. They desire the Divine Presence Itself with God and His Beloved (Muhammad). Heavenly angels, rivers of milk and honey, trees that light up like Christmas Trees are not good enough for the likes of them. They see it all as distractions - divine and blessed, but distractions nonetheless.

I think they are right in their presumptuous claims. After all, why be reticent when it is God Himself asking you to ask Him? Why be shy with your ambition? Why dither and waver before True Love's Beauty? If your heart is trembling and quaking thinking of God, then ask Him to sooth your yearning. Right or wrong, you (we all) belong to Him. So ask God rightfully for God Himself. Do not waste your time like the villagers who scramble to carry away the Sultan's riches and treasures but forget about the Sultan Himself. ("The Sultan & His Gift, Worldly & Spiritual Distractions - Love Bites on your Soul" Click here on earlier posting)

Its a lovely Sunday evening, and the afternoon thunderstorm that has been uprooting trees in my city has gone away. All that is left now is me writing this, and you, sunshine, reading my blog. Thank you for dropping by.

Pax Taufiqa.

Sinner's Sunday Reflection Part II - An Event Occured

Religion, like Love, do not change me. It reveals who I really am. Sometimes I wish I never stumbled into Love’s trap. With all its bait of honey, joy, happiness, paradise, contentment and beauty, Love is ultimately an event. Perhaps THE EVENT of them all. And like events, it has its moments, only to drift away a second later.

But Love is also the brightest and truest mirror of them all – and when Love catches your reflection in its bright shiny surface – what does it reveal? Ah, my friends – you have come to know me, the sinner, for all I am worth. In order words, worthless really. For the longer I spend my time fussing with my make-up and posing like a peacock before Love’s Mirror, the uglier I appear to become. All my unsightly hairs, warts and blackspots appearing on my soul’s skin like truth out of the swamp of my contemplation.

Then I turn away quickly, protesting, “This is not me! This is not me!” But if this is not me, then who is this ugly duckling looking back at me across the mirror? And if this is not me, then where am I?

What a turn of event, isn’t it, pet? Just an hour or two ago I was posting up a typically happy-sinner poem, and now here I am – tired and worn, battered and torn.

Happiness? It is also an event, and comes and goes without our fully comprehending it. Okay, I was not ecstatic, but at least I was contented awhile back. Then out of the blazing blue, a sms arrived into my cellphone, full of dissatisfaction. I opened the sms, read it and switched off my cellphone.

No doubt even this Sad Event would pass away, I know. Really, of that I am certain. But while this sorrow lingers, who else can I turn to? Who else can accept this sinner, with his appalling habits and laziness? Yes, sunshine, I have to turn to God and His Prophet. I turn to Love as the Only True Essence, seek its embrace and cower my face into its welcoming bosom. “The world is painful today…”, I would mutter, “Oh, I am so happy I have you to turn to….” I say this with no arrogance, because when all of creation is hurtful, only the Creator suffices to cool my injured pride.

After all, from Love, I have nothing whatsoever to hide.

I continued to sigh alone in front of my emo-breakfast. Then suddenly, whispered into me by a long dead soul were these words –

The world is used in two ways,
As a carrot to bait you to the Lord,
And as a stick to chase you to the Lord.

Either way should that not make you happy?

And look closely at the world again,
And at the hand holding the carrot and stick,
Does it not look strangely familiar?
Does it not look strikingly like yours?

Reflect, sinner!

*Sigh* Well, what can I say... the dead dude is right after all. So I am switching on my cellphone again. You can call if you wanna, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Awake or Asleep, Faithful or Faithless, you are with me constantly, LOVE!

84. Breath of the Sun of the Sun
I felt the breath of
The Sun of the Sun
Upon my cheek.

It was not winter
But my heart
Was covered in frost,
But Love came,
Love overtook me
And burned away
My sorrow in a
Blossom of white flames.

Then the clouds drifted
Into my eyes and rain
Washed into my soul.

I was torn asunder, you see,
But Love, Sweet Love
Made me whole.

What is Sunday without contemplating Love? It is the best day for such reflection, I think. It is empty of daily work and chores (at least for me!), a timeslot left free to pour our ambition into the mould of our soul - our eternal pursuit of Love, blind, stupid and mad, while all along Love was pursuing us and shouting "I am here! I am here!".

Hehehe. It is cold here. The ceiling fan is blowing much too strong, but I am reticent to call the waiter to slow it down, because after all, he is probably busy in his own pursuit of Love.

May you chase down Love or are yourself chased down by Love. It doesn't matter really how, as from God did we come from, and to Him we shall (Huuu ray!) certainly return to.

Do enjoy this Sunday, sunshine. The day was created just for you.

Pax Taufiqa.

I am the Luckiest Guy Alive in Medina - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 16

On Thursday, 24th March 2011, around brunch, and if you were strolling in Masjid Nabawi (Prophet's Mosque) you may find a black bundle of a man sprawled across the soft red blue carpet of mosque. You may hear him mumbling nonsense, and once in a while, taking out his handphone and taking pictures of the interior. You may even have seen him jotting down some intelligible notes in his journal - "Immigration (exhausion)... couldn't sleep good... Hunger... confusion... (wrote) an emo sms to Heche...". You must forgive him, because this sinner just arrived in Medina from Jerusalem via Jericho and Amman, had to go through Medina's infamously disorganised passport control and finally crawled into bed the night before, barely half the man he was when he left the Holy Land Hotel in the Old Quarter. And later I found that the airconditioner wasn't working.

So here I am. In Medina, in the home of the Prophet after he left Mecca all those years ago upon a pilgrimage to change the world. Later the same day, I found the cafeteria which served excellent food and the sinner was rejuvenated. You must forgive the sinner for being so food-driven, after all, he's not used to going without a meal for more than 24 hours. To be honest, I am not that guy who can be jolly and happy regardless of the state of his stomach. Once I had some yummy in my tummy, suddenly it dawned upon me... Yeah! I am in Medina! The City of the Prophet! Wuu Huuu!

The mosque of my Prophet is beautiful. And that umbrella thingy they have installed on the exterior, very lovely and shady. It was warm when we were in Medina, but because of the dry weather, it's much more bearable. As compared to hot and humid Malaysia, when you can break into a sweat just getting dressed up after shower. I kid you not.

After lunch the sinner wandered back to the mosque, wondering what to do next. Happily I bumped into Saiful, my friend and part of the group. He was heading to the Turkish quarter of Medina (which lies just outside Bab as-Salam (The Gate of Peace) which leads to the entrance of the Raudah (the Prophet's Tomb), which is the epicentre, the central focus of the Masjid Nabawi. "We will visit the Raudah after we check out my friend's shop", he said. Alas, when we reached the Turkish shop, we found out that the establishment has just closed down for good. So no chance to get Saiful's Turkish robe (I think he's talking about he Naqshbandiya Khalidiya robe which we see a lot of Turkish pilgrims wearing here in Medina - they are here, by the thousands). We resigned ourselves to fate and enjoyed a cup of milky chai in front of the mighty gates of this amazing mosque. I looked at him and smiled, thinking, "Yeaah!... I am in the Prophet's city, just a few steps away from his Raudah." I felt like the luckiest guy alive, sunshine.

We later made our way through Bab as-Salam, passing through nervous and excited pilgrims, their eyes ever searching to the front... "Where is it? Where is the Raudah? Where is he? Where is my Prophet?" And me, sunshine? What was crossing my mind? I don't know why, but these words were running through my heart... "You are the lake of my lake, the sun of my sun, the sea of my sea..." and similarly odd words and phrases. I would not understand the meaning of this until much later. Slowly I walked towards the Raudah with my fellow pilgrims. My throat felt dry, my heart was beating fast and although crowded by humanity, I felt alone and priviliged, I am going to say Hello to him, to my Prophet Muhammad, to his Companions Abu Bakar and Umar, and also to his beloved daughter, Fatima az-Zahra... Again, I felt like the luckiest guy alive, sunshine.

If you will notice the picture above, there is inscribed in Arabic script the name of Muhammad, the Prophet of God. This is in fact right behind the Raudah and is one of the older parts of the mosque - built during the Ottoman times. And as far as I am aware this is the only part of the Masjid Nabawi where the name of the Prophet Muhammad is exhibited as well as the name of God. This is the way in which almost all homes and mosques in Malaysia exhibits the name of God, ie. God's name on the right, with the Prophet's name on the left and on the same height. This is an important fact to note, sunshine.

And beneath the name of God and His Prophet lies the suffah, a platform which was originally in the Prophet's mosque from his time. The suffah (I thought he said 'sofa' - and I thought, "A sofa, behind the Raudah? Really? How convenient!") was famous even in the Beloved's days because that was where the 'especially involved' early Muslims used to stay all the time, praying and doing dzikr (remembrance of God). They are called the lovers of God and His Prophet, and from that name arose the title 'Sufi'. (Yes, yes... I know there is also another theory as to how the Sufis got their name, but bear with me, okay?) If you are looking for the strangest and weirdest of people in Masjid Nabawi, this is where you may find them. But I looked around and saw just ordinary people, patently happy. But I bet none felt luckier than me, sunshine. Hehehe. Because here I am! The incorrigible sinner, right at the suffah! What irony! Wuu Huu!

Outside my hotel and adjacent to the mosque, street traders made brisk business selling their slippers, rosary beads, skullcaps, perfumes, robes, shoes and cellphone simcards and credit top-ups to the voracious shoppers amongst the pilgrims. There is a spot I picked just outside my hotel where I would spend my lazy time, just looking and observing. And one day this was what I wrote "...Chilling until zuhr (afternoon prayers) at "my spot" near the entrance of the Mosque. I like people watching - so many thousands who come to you, o' Rasul (Prophet) in endless shapes and sizes. You don't need me... But you still want... thank u !..."

Perfumes, Haji?!

22. More and more love
As the Prophet ascends the
Ladder of spiritual stations,
He draws more and more Love
From the Lord’s Sea of Infinite Love.
And the Prophet passes what
He has gained to you.

O’seeker, do you now see?
The Prophet is ever falling
More and more in love
With you.

How do you treat
One such as him?

God bless you, sunshine. I have been to Medina. And I am contented. Alhamdulillah.

Pax Taufiqa.

We are Bridgemakers and we use Love to Build our Bridges

82. A bridge between me and you

Love doesn’t hurt,
We hurt.
Love doesn’t bite,
We bite.
Love doesn’t lie,
We lie.
Love isn’t misery,
We are miserable,
Love isn’t hasty,
We are hasty.
Love isn’t blind,
We are.
Love doesn’t fail,
We fail.

For I have found
The Love to heal,
To restrain and
To be truthful,
Joyful and patient,
Revealing and
Illuminating a bridge
That exists between
My heart and yours.

Really, you don't need to book a ticket to Paris, look for a bridge and there declare your undying love. For as long as we live, we all have our bridges to cross already, wherever we may be. In the lore of the Prophet there is a bridge known as the siratul mustaqim (also called the Straight Path) which is said to be a bridge as straight and narrow as your hair split to the seventh degree. It is my belief that the material composition of this delicate bridge is Love, for what else can you build from, that is finer and more delicate than Love?

Glory and blessings upon you, sunshine. For you are indeed one of the bridgemakers of this world. You are not of those who seek to tear down the bridge between race, culture, nation and religion which is often the bloody habit of the peacebreakers of this world. You see me as one of you, despite me being a sinner. You see me as one of you, although we may not share the same skin colour or culture. You see me as one of you, although I am thousands of miles away from you.

But what is physical distance when the bridge that connects us is Love?

Have a perfect Sabbath, sunshine. *Sniff* I still have a little flu and cough. But I will muddle through alright!

Pax Taufiqa

My Father is Straight And Sometimes Even Roger Federer Sucks.

A SMALL GIFT FROM PATER. Last week, my father went to the 50th Anniversary party of a close friend. When myself and Heche went to pick him up we noticed he was carrying a party pack full of goodies. This morning as I was getting ready for work he suddenly pass to me 3 tiny booklet (in velvet brown covers) which turned out to be the Surah Yaasin (one of the most oft-recited chapter of the Holy Quran), the Asmaa ul-Husnaa (the 99 names of God) and a Collection of short prayers. None of his best friends would say that my father is especially religious, being the sort of guy more concerned with life and the living (after all, he’s a doctor). But in his earlier retirement years, I did notice that he was reading a book about philosophy (for dummies!) and other assortment of brain-breaking books. Of late however he has given up on those tiresome tomes and prefers to watch tennis on TV or taking his grandchildren out for meals. I am glad, because to be frank I would rather he enjoy his retirement as best as he can and leave the heavy reading to us (meaning me and my elder brother, Saiful).

MY FATHER IS STRAIGHT. My father is a straight man. I am not saying anything about his sexual inclination or his participation in a comedic act - it’s just he’s plain honest. Painfully honest at times and not the sort to mince his words. As a result he used to inevitably step on people’s egos in his old days heading the Ministry and later in the banking sector. But he never actually meant to hurt anyone’s feeling, it’s just that his standard of duty and dedication has (sadly) gone out of trend and often conflicts with the rather easy-going who-cares attitude prevalent in our society nowadays. He says it as he sees it, you know.

SHORT-FUSED? My father has a short-fuse and the world (or God, if you wanna say that) is playing with him. It’s as if the more my dad blows his top over some small niggling irritation (traffic jam, misunderstanding at the cashier, misplacing his cellphone), the more fate tests him with these petty annoyances. My brother noticed that nothing ever goes wrong when he alone goes to pay the utility bills (for instance), but on any given day when he has to bring my father, then without fail some silly contretemps (“... But can you EXPLAIN to me the bill item HERE!”) would occur and my father would get mightily pissed. Hehehe.

FEDERER! Maybe ‘short-fused’ is the wrong adjective to call the good doctor. Maybe ‘passionate’ is the better description – One night, our maid was woken by screams of anguish and pain reverberating from our living room. It sounded like my dad and it was in the early hours of the morning, so rightfully she was panicked. She rushed out to the living room and cautiously peeked. It was my dad alright, but he was in no pain (unless you call it emotional pain), he was just watching Roger Federer on TV losing in a tennis match. My father was simply expressing his disappointment at Federer’s poor performance.

"YOUR MOTHER…" On the rare occasion when I am with him shopping, my father would often reminisce about my late mother - “Ah, your mum loved this vegetable”… “She really liked to eat the noodle at this shop here”…”Mamma came back from Jerusalem with boxes of cabbages and pumpkins, saying she just didn’t know what else to buy.” My dad misses my mother in so many ways, I think.

Well, that’s my dad. Never a dull moment. Does he read this blog? He is techno-shy, but recently he did indicate interest in a laptop, so later perhaps. In the meantime, why don’t we keep this little posting between the two of us, sunshine. Hehehe.

Our fathers are quite something, aren’t they? God bless them!

Pax Taufiqa

The Dead Sea, Jericho, and Karma at the Israel-Jordan Border - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 15

The Dead Sea

(Sorry for the delay, but this posting is the continuation and 15th part on my Umrah Pilgrimage) THE DEAD SEA. After the shrine of Moses, it was perhaps about half an hour's ride to the Dead Sea. It was a wet and rainy morning, so we all took shelter at the shop which was doing brisk business with Jewish and Arab tourists, who looked quite surprised to see our 50-odd crowd descending upon the small shop. This locality is famous for being the lowest spot on earth, about 418 metres below sea level. Left with no US Dollars, I got my friends to treat me to hot chocolate, which is the best drink in this cold weather. Brrr!

The Dead Sea Ashtray

For awhile I was famous, being the smoker at the lowest point on earth. How did the Marlboro taste at that altitude? Still good. Now, that's the problem, kiddo.

Err. This must be some kinda mistake

JALUR GEMILANG (name of Malaysian flag) IN ISRAEL. And this, must be the Malaysian flag at the lowest point on earth. We had quite a chuckle because Malaysia has no diplomatic relations with Israel. But I guess the proprietor bought a stock of national flags and just decided to raise them all up, regardless of diplomatic niceties.

Shalom!

FARMS AND THE FRONTIER. We came in peace. And as the sign instructed, we left the Dead Sea Resort in peace too. Its worthwhile to note that even in this seemingly infertile land, the Israelis appear to be growing some crop or rather. It looked like date palms, but I could be mistaken. In fact, as we made our way later through the frontier land facing Jordan, the Israelis are trying very hard to populate the region with small self-contained townships and farms dotting their outskirts. I never saw any farmhand at work during the afternoon, save for a couple of Arabs, but the vegetables and olive trees appear to be flourishing under the desert Sun.

Really? Oldest?

JERICHO prides itself as being the oldest city (as well as being at the lowest altitude) in the world. It is adjacent to the Dead Sea, and from the resort we could already see the town. Arriving absolutely hungry, we made our way directly to the cafeteria, after which we bought some souvenirs from the shop below - "The lowest lowest prices at the lowest lowest shop in the world!" the banner should have read. By this time the guide and bus driver was absolutely worried that we will be missing our flight from Amman to Medina. The drive from Jericho to Amman is not exactly near, and there is still the border crossing that we had to contend with.

Hashemite means the lineage to Bani Hashim, the Clan of the Prophet

A LITTLE PROBLEM EXITING ISRAEL. Our exit from Israel was directed to be via Sheikh Hussein Bridge which was a long, long way off from Jericho, instead of the much nearer King Hussein Bridge. That added at least an hour plus to our already oppressed time-management. At Israel immigration control, they processed us as fast as they could, but still took more than an hour (oh no!) and thereafter one poor dude was actually called into the interview room. I don't know why, maybe he looked like a security threat, but really I don't think so. While waiting for him, I was sitting behind the bus with Matt, and it appears that maybe our unfortunate friend's current predicament is perhaps not so coincidental after all. It was nothing really, but it appears that during the group's tour (which I opted out, remember?) after al-Aqsa Mosque, the dude was kinda rude to our Arab tour guide, ranting with expletives (!) at the poor man and witnessed by the group. "It's Karma", says Matt. Well, I have had my fair share of Karma biting in me in my bum, so I just nodded.

Anyways, after half an hour, the guy came out grinning out of the immigration complex. "Quick! Quiiiick! We must hurry!", our driver shouted as he hustled and bustled us up into the bus. Along the way, our Jordanian guide (who joined us at the border) told us that the Jordan, which is part of the Great Rift Valley is also known as the bread basket of the region, growing a lot of the vegetables and fruits for export to the Arab and Mediterranean countries. The Jordanians however aren't pleased because they say that the Israelis are taking too much water from the River Jordan.

The Prophet's Mosque, Medina

BOUND FOR MEDINA. It was a mad 3 hour's drive from the border to Queen Alia International Airport. Along the way, I noticed festooned on bridges, government buildings, military facilities, gateways, housing complexes and shops were the smiling picture of King Abdullah of Jordan, looking dour and mostly alone, but sometimes together with the picture of the Crown Prince, who must be in his early teens. We finally arrived at the airport about half an hour before the flight. Thanks to the pre-arrangement via phone by our tour leaders, the Major and Abu Ayob, we breezed through Jordanian passport control. My only hiccup was at the security scanner, where in a state of mad frenzy I deposited my phone, sandals, cane, slingbag, wallet, passport, boarding pass, cigarette and other assorted personal items into four separate boxes. "I am sure I will forget or lose some of them!" I worried. But of course being on pilgrimage, we had the Devil's luck - I got them all back safely.

Soon I was sitting in the plane bound for Medina, musing on the past 48 hours' travel and the sights I have seen in Palestine-Israel, and hoping that one day I shall return to the Land of the Prophets. But for now I was contented - Happy to know that in two hours' time I shall be stepping onto the blessed soil of Medina, City of the Prophet Muhammad, my Habibullah and Mercy to the Worlds. Even in my exhaustion, that made it all worth while.

Have a beautiful day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

Hallaj, his Head and the Beauty in Disagreement

Dear old Hallaj lost his head for saying stuffs, which I guess is the ultimate censorship (See my earlier posting about him entitled Prophet Muhamad, Hallaj, the Sunnah of Patience, Getting Drunk and Paris Hilton's Pooch - Click Here). I am dropping in again at Hallaj's corner of the cosmic tavern because last night, while perusing my old writings, I came across a missive of him, written by the sinner's hand...

21. The Law & The Path II
Sometimes the Path ends
With the retribution of the Law.
But Allah, shall they silence Your Friends forever?
By Allah, surely they must fail!
For what do they strike but a vessel of clay?
What can they decapitate
But a puppet’s head?
By your permission,
May my heart linger forever
In servitude to You,
Teaching, guiding and loving
The seekers whose seeds
You still hold in abeyance,

Let me do this,
Wherever my head may now be!

Hallaj is said to have been executed in 922 A.D., thus fulfilling his destiny to become known as the famous Sufi mystic martyr. For those who opposed him, we shall not delve into their intentions, because really it doesn't matter any more. For who remembers the man who condemned Hallaj? But by his death, our friend has raised the discourse of the heart as to who we are and who God is to another dynamic level. For you see, I do believe in the Prophet's saying that Disagreement in my nation is a beneficial thing...

4. 19th October 2004, Part II
Allah loves the sport
Of two friends
Who compete
Against each other
To extol
Their particular blessings
From their Benefactor!

The only problem is when one person thinks he is better than the other person. That his interpretation of their common religion as being better, more refined and finer than the obtuse and oafish understanding of the other man. Well, the truth is there is indeed no equality of understanding. But the moment we fall trap to our hubris (and the danger is greater for those attracted to the tariqa (which is commonly referred to as the mystic's or Sufi's Path), then we just become another fly trapped in the cobweb of our own egos. As a sinner who is often pleased with himself, the danger of hubris and arrogance is clear and immediate. And I bet there are some (perhaps many!) postings in this blog where the sinner has shown his true colours. I do apologise, sunshine. You must except me as I am, a work-in-progress.

Pax Taufiqa.

Today, my Friend returned to the Friend of Friends (aka God)

Today a friend passed away. But I don't like that phrase. Neither do I like 'moved on' or even 'went to a better place'. It's as if he has decided to pack up and move to one of those fancy gated communities. And certainly not 'died'. "Died" and "death" has such a fatal and final ring, don't you think?

Death is not final. Death is a door, an event through which we participate for a moment. Then death is no more, not for my friend, nor for us whom he has left to endure in our mortal coil. For us death is the eventuality guaranteed by our birth. So we wait.

My friend? Ah, he was one of those vibrant beautiful souls. Before he moved away from my neighbourhood, we used to meet pretty often at our local coffee shop. Sometimes early in the morning, and other times late at night (to catch his favourite English soccer team, Arsenal, on TV).

He was kind, he was patient and honest. But more than that, for the sinner he was certainly one of the most entertaining person I have ever met. I shall not talk much about him. It's not as if he has left for anywhere. For in my heart he shall always be my amazing friend. May God, the Friend of Friends, bless his sweet smiling soul, as how I still remember him to be...

9. Friendship
Friendship is the remembering of kindness,
The forgetting of slights,
The praising of virtues,
And the acceptance of failings.
It is the meeting off two soul-birds who greet each other;
“Come as you are for I want neither more nor less of you,
And I shall come as myself, as in truth, your servant.”

My only sadness is that I was not a better friend. Such is the sorrow of a sinner, you see - when it comes to love and friendship, we shall always be debtors... never having requited in full the love given to us. May God forgive my deficit, and bless my friends...

So do not be like me, sunshine. Be a great friend to your friends.

Pax.

GOD - The Friend of Friends

54. I am here, because you are here
I found myself
In the abyss
Of long shadows,

And next to me
Was my friend,

I told him to go,
To leave me be
With my ghosts
And demons.

But he would not.

I asked him
What was he doing here,
And he replied that
He was here because
I was here.

If I have failed
To take pity
Of myself,
I felt pity
For my friend,
For this is
Not his doom.

So I made my way up,
And together, we
Reached our home,
Away from the abyss
Of long shadows.

Finally we won
The sunlight
Of the Prophet’s pleasure,
And we stood awhile,
Resting upon the Beloved’s Moon,

Then my friend
Looked at me and smiled,
Saying this to me,
“Nor was it your doom, o’ Taufiq”.

Sometimes, the best way to help yourself is to help someone else. And there is no jewel, no gift, no gold from heaven's trove finer, more delicate and robust than friendship. And often we are saved by our friends in spite of our reluctance to be saved! Oohh... what a drama queen we can be sometimes!

If you look closely between the threads woven by the Loom of Fate, how have we not realised that our friends are God's own direct intervention into our lives? For God is known by many names, and He is also known as the Friend of Friends. God bless God, and God bless our beloved friends! Our BFFs!

So, as I habitually ask you, sunshine - If you share the same sentiments as I do about your friends, how can it be that we are not, in truth, brothers and sisters?

Pax Taufiqa.

PS - The sketch above was done maybe 6 years ago, and long have I wondered when I would use it. It's one of my fav and I hope you like it! Just to be clear, the picture depicts the man behind, stopping the man in front from jumping into the abyss... You can guess which one is me. Hehehe.