Gathering of the Birds. Happy Birthday to the Prophet! Happy Birthday to You! - 12 Rabi ul Awwal

The Gathering of the Birds

Tired and listless,

Before arriving home

I wandered to the home

Of the nightingales,

And there I saw the gathering,

Not only of nightingales...

But I saw owls and falcons, 

Budgies and sparrows,

Ravens and eagles,

Crows and Mockingbirds,

And even an assortment

Of Ostriches and Dodos.

God bless the birds!

God bless them all 

Of whatever hue and colour,

Singing or silent,

Flying or earth bound,

Wise or foolish,

Beautiful or less so,

For it is the Twelth of Rabi ul Awwal,

And Mercy made manifest in Muhammad

Whose Love shall forever more flow!

.................................

It was a tiring day yesterday. But in the evening I dropped by the Naqshbandi Zawiya nearby. And there I saw the gathering of those strange Sufis. I could not stay long, but I did spend some time talking to them. It always stirs my curiosity to see such a mingling of people of different colours and races, vocation and age, nationality and culture, wealth and educational back ground, all drawn to this place of worship, as is happening in the whole Muslim world today, to celebrate the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), when God made His mercy for all creation manifest in the clearest sign possible.

For the Muslims, the birthday of the Prophet (s.a.w.s.), Beloved of God, Mercy to all the world(s), is intimately linked to their own. For naught is the reason for their lives, for each waking hour and sleep, in work or in play, in sadness or joy, were it not to be lived in their love and devotion for Muhammad (s.a.w.s), Prophet of God.

We have all our own birthdays. But our soul all share one birthday in that of Muhammad (s.a.w.s.). For it is not for nothing that he is also known as Abu Arwah (The Father of Souls).

So happy birthday, sunshine! Keep your smile on, always.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

God, History and the Sunnah of Abu Arwah

Do not discard yourself

What are we but a vessel for blessed souls?

For they come to us from the past and future

Bringing perception of Truth, Love and Beauty

Forged in their own lives for our benefit,

As we unlearn our own folly by their history,

And little by little we make our shy approach

To the Lord of Souls and the Father of Souls…

It is so lovely that I sometimes wonder…

Perhaps they should possess me completely

As I think I have no more need for ‘me’…

But a distant voice grew from some place 

Unknown and spoke to me......

“No, o’ seeker, for we too

Came when we saw

The Truth, Love

And Beauty

In you.”

…………………….

Truth, Love and Beauty cannot fail to unite and heal the discord that is forever threatening the brotherhood of humanity. These divine attributes of our one Lord cannot but heal our wounded pride, our bitter regrets and our long-held grudges... if we would only endeavour to look for God that way.

And in this endeavour there is no guiding light, no lantern brighter, no book wiser, no path more easy, no way more splendid and good than the Sunnah of Abu Arwah (The Traditions of the Father of Souls, one of the titles of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him). For the Lord has sanctified and blessed his path as the most righteous and complete to sustain our travel to the divine journey, however slow we might be, however many times we may trip and fall or lose our selves.

For Man may lose sight of God, but verily, God never loses sight of Man.

Because God sees what He Himself has planted within us all... the potential, the seed of His Truth, Love and Beauty waiting to bloom like some magnificent flower in the garden of our souls. In the cherished love of the father and mother for their children is this single profound wisdom. Will they not see and learn?

'Tis Sunday, and I am happy, sunshine. Because I woke up to find this love letter waiting to be written and shared with you!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

How I wish I knew you better when I was younger

When I was Younger

O’ Love, O’ Light of Creation,
O’ Muhammad Habibullah,
O’ Abu Arwah!*

How I wish I knew you better,
And how I wish when I was younger
That I knew you then as what little
I know of you now…

Then perhaps I would have sinned lesser,
Then perhaps I would not have cried so often,
Then perhaps I would not have hurt myself so regular,
And maybe my smile would have been wider.

No doubt
That I would have been a better son for my mother,
A better pupil for my teachers,
A better company for my friends,
A better infidel for all believers
A better believer for all idolaters,
And a better half for all my lovers.

O’ Springtime of Mercy,
O’ Summer of Affections,
O’ Autumn of Virtues,
O’ Winter of Contentment!

You are all my seasons,
You are all my reasons,
You hold me captive now, o’ Prophet
How I wish you captured me earlier…
When I was younger…

And truthfully, not for all reasons

That I have mentioned,

But simply to be enamoured

By your loving attention.

(* JFYI, Abu Arwah is one of the many titles of the Prophet, it means the Father of Souls.)

I wrote the prose this morning and sms-ed it out to 7 of my friends. But the last four lines were written only just now at 6.00pm. How lucky I am to be corrected before I posted this out!

This Sunday is turning out to be a wonderful Sunday, sunshine. May yours equal and outshine mine. Amen.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote: If you are curious, I am fifth standing from the left. Yes, I wonder myself too, when did all that hair go?