Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Dream, The Master Archer and Hazrat Babajan of Poone, India - strange meetings, inspiring words...

A couple of days back, the sinner posted a story entitled "Martabat Sunnah Memanah, The Honour of Prophetic Traditional Archery - get your bows and arrows... we are shooting down our egos today!" If you wish to read it you may Click Here.

An anonymous reader posted a comment, which I would like to share with you...

An old dream, new again today. 

I lay awake a long time thinking about the dream that had just occurred. It was an exhaustive, fierce combat with deadly assailants. When it finally ended in an astonishing victory, I was still heartbroken that it was necessary to fight at all. But those sentiments did not prevail. Hazrat Babajan of India, the Sufi Qutub, was visibly present throughout the whole event observing the battle, and perhaps more than that. As I thought about it all I drifted back to sleep. 

A new dream appeared, a different scene and situation, but with a related meaning. There were about six of us. We were in an antique building, in an elegant spacious room with beautiful wood walls, some of it ornately carved. There were no windows. It was a shooting gallery for archers. Each archer had a target across the room. Our bows and arrows were lightweight, but very large. The arrows seemed 5-6 feet long, and the bows were large enough to support them. I stood at the far left end of the straight line of the six of us ready to practice. 

I aimed … seeing with crystal clarity the bull’s eye, the tip of my arrow pointing to the exact center of the target before adjusting for ballistics, and shot … hitting it precisely. I had the impression that because of the length of the arrows and the distance of the targets, this was not an easy feat. 

We all wore brown robes with hoods, like monks, so I couldn’t see who the others were. I think some of them were in the Babajan dream. There was a single person, a man I think, also in a robe, sitting on a plain straight-back chair in the center of the room facing where we were shooting. I couldn’t see him from where I stood, there was a large pillar that blocked my view. But he could see our arrows as they passed perpendicularly in his line of vision. 

I went to him. He seemed to be the Master Archer observing our practice. I had a question, I think in regards to our present status as archers, as if I were looking for approval to graduate to the next level. But in silence the Master stopped my question and communicated telepathically, that for now, continue to practice, continue to fight the assailants of the mind and heart to graduate to the next level. I returned to my post, and aimed...


Hazrat Babajan (1806-1931)

I do not know who the writer is (perhaps he or she is one of my friends?) nor even this Hazrat Babajan. But a quick googling promptly identified the person. It is a she. A female Sufi Saint who lived to a ripe ancient age of 125 before leaving this physical world in Poona, India where she resided and taught for her last 35 years under a Neem tree. There is a page for her in Wikipedia, while the wonderful website Inspirations and Creative Thoughts has written about her which you may read by Clicking Here.

Well, there you go. Enough mystery to ponder over the weekend. How strange life is and how wonderful is the encounters between strangers that God conspires to bring a formless unity in worship and prayer unto Him, The Friend of Friends, Lord God of the Saints. Unto Him, verily, Muhammad Habibullah Prophet of Allah(pbuh) will bring us, upon the safest, straightest and most compassionate and loving Path... as straight as the arrow flies from the bow of Sa'ad ibn Abi Waqqas... Companion and Master Archer of the Prophet (pbuh). MasyaAllah... may we be such an arrow in the hands of the Master!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way

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