The Door of My Soul - Hu is behind it?

The Door of My Soul

We do not question God,

We question ourselves,

Raising awkward inquiries

And intimate questions

Bound to raise the blushes

Of the most hardened rake

Amongst us.

We do not question God,

But put ourselves through

The grinding windmill

Of our own complexity

And confusion.

We do this,

Time and again,

Until finally, tired and worn,

We reply,

"Enough! I cannot answer thy questions anymore,

Cast thy impertinent interrogation on the Door of my Soul,

And see now Hu will answer thee!"

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

I am away from the city, in the hill-side of Janda Baik (literally, The Good Widow), a rural hill village in the state of Pahang, about one hour from my home. I am here with my friend, Moses, taking a break from the city-scape for some green jungle and cool evening breeze. It is in fact very cold here now, because as the sun came down, a torrential downpour also arrive to soak this quiet little retreat.

Moses agreed to follow, which is fortunate, because we are the only paying customers in this little guest house. Apart from us there are only two or three resident staff staying here. I also brought along Imam Ghazali for company, in his slim volume entitled The Alchemy of Happiness. Am I searching for happiness? I am, just like everyone else. And I have a sneaky feeling that my happiness is in finding out who is behind the Door of my Soul.

Oh dear, the rain is starting again. I better go dry up. God bless you and have a wonderful day.  

Take care, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Door, the Nightingale, the Sun and the Question

THE DOOR

In this life, it is often that we make mistakes, some small, other bigs, and a few gigantenormous errors. As a sinner, I am quite the expert in this field. We act on our foolish ego, say or do regrettable things until we find ourselves at His Door. It is not a door of distinction. Saints and Prophets do not enter this way, for this is the door for the wayward and foolish…

10. Here We Are!
Here we are!
Caught between sin
That is sure to condemn us,
And the gall to desire
Something greater than paradise.

Here we are!
Continuing, impertinently
To ask for Light
When darkness is best suited
To hide our shame.

Here we are!
Wanderers and fools
With a fools’ hope,
Knocking on His Door
On which is inscribed;
My Mercy is Greater than My Anger,
My Love is Greater than My Wrath,

Here we are!
Outside the entrance sanctified
For the wayward
And the foolish-looking.

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE SUN

But you see, my friends, who cares by which door we enter into the Divine Presence? That you have made it to any door is already wonderful. Because simply put, being lost is a necessary human pre-condition to being guided…

51. Lonely Nightingale
If the nightingale was not lonely
Would she still sing?

If your path was straight and unbending
Would you still want guiding?

And there is no greater guide to God than God Himself. An ancient Sufi saying goes like this…

Only by the Sun do you see the Sun

THE QUESTION. So now you are at the Door. Now what? The truth of the matter is you are the Door keeper, not God. It is your door, actually, not His. So many people are knocking on God’s door wanting to be let in… While God Himself is ruefully observing that…

The Question
These servants of Mine! They are forever knocking on the Door, beseeching Me, ‘Let me in, O’ Lord! Let me in!’, when in Truth, I am the one being locked out by them. It is not for Me to open the Door for them… it is for them to open the Door for Me. Who is the Master and who is the servant here?

I leave you with that question, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote –
Related Postings (2) “Abu Bakar, Abu Yazid, the End of Hell Part II, Calvin & Hobbes and My Left Foot” – CLICK HERE. “God’s Door is Always Open, So is My Mum’s” – CLICK HERE.

“Here we are!’ is from ‘The Profane and the Profound’ (Sept 2004), and ‘Lonely Nightingale’ is from ‘The Dam.SunSun.Ana’ (April 2004). ‘The Question’ is freshly baked today.

Anonymity in the Oneness of God, Abu Bakar, Mary and that Descartes Dude

WE ARE ALL ANONYMOUS. I don’t know who most of my readers are. This used to bother me, but now I am just happy for someone to drop by. And it made me wonder– do we really know any other person? Do you really know your best friend? Your wife? Even your mother? Your husband? You see them daily, you eat and drink with them, you share joys and tears together. You support the same football team. But really, do we understand the depth of emotions, experience and personality that makes up another human being?

WE DON’T REALLY KNOW EACH OTHER. Of course not. To a large extent, we transact only with the surface of the man / woman. We exchange pleasantries and speak their names. But the deeper substrata, the subconscious personality of the person is often beyond our immediate attention or contemplation. So in a manner of speaking, we are often anonymous to one another.

WE DON’T EVEN KNOW OURSELVES. Matters become more complicated when we are often propelled by self-delusions. For me, I often catch myself saying / doing things which are abnormal to my general attitude. I would like to think that I am kind, hard working, loving and patient. But the truth of the matter is I can do the exact opposite sometimes. I can be mean. I can be selfish, and sometimes cruel words come out of my mouth. Words I wish I had never uttered, but in that split second I forgot who I was – train wrecking myself on sleepers laid down by my ego.

.

I think that anonymity is the true nature of Reality– ergo the first part of the Islamic declaration of faith, that ‘I bear witness that there is no god but God…’. Thus I remembered Abu Bakar, the Shadow of the Prophet, in a little poem that I wrote…

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.

The ‘…And Then Some’ in the title of the prose above is a reference to Mary, Mother of Jesus. She uttered the exact same sentiments as Abu Bakar as-Siddique.

I AM NOTHING SPECIAL but my ego always likes to claim that I am special. Whether as a sinner or a believer, whether I am drowning in sins, or performing prayers and charity – my ego stakes a claim on my behalf to be somehow different, special from the rest of humanity. The ego is subtle you see, even when you are down and out, a penniless bum on skid row, your ego can be as gigantic as the richest man in the world. Only true anonymity will keep the ego at bay…

190. Mundane
The thought of finding pleasure in the mundane,
The thought that you might be mundane,
Is almost too much for your ego to bear.

In a world where everyone craves a name,
Anonymity is arsenic.

BUT WAIT A MINUTE… To conclude this posting, I refer to the second limb of the declaration of faith, “…And that Muhammad is the Messenger of God.” This is not merely a statement of the Prophethood of Muhammad, but also the statement of our plurality as human beings. It is by this second part that mankind is created, to exhibit the many attributes of the Beloved, to be the ink by which we write ourselves (or are written) unto the consciousness of God.

GOD THINKS THEREFORE I AM. I like to believe that we are all anonymous in the Oneness of God, but we become identifiable through His Love for the Prophet and for us. To reassess what old Rene Descartes once said, "I think therefore I am ", to “ God Thinks therefore I am”. I hope Rene doesn't mind...
.

Have a thoughtful Monday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnotes – An earlier posting about Abu Bakar and Abu Yazid may interest you. Click here.

‘The Lament of Abu Bakar and Then Some” and “Mundane” are prose from chapter 1, ‘The Dam.SunSun.Ana (circa June 2004).

The Art of Drinking in the Tavern of Love, with Abu Yazid, Hallaj, Rumi and Abdul Qadir Geylani

In Teddy Bears and Sweet Gentle Walks we spoke of how Love will change your life. And I must warn you that, given free rein, Love will demolish your doubts and sadness. I know this to be true, because more than a year ago a kindly bartender in the Tavern of Love told me…
.

21. A heady draught II
Ah, drinkers,
Did you not see
The sign outside?
“Verily, you who
Wish to enter,
Leave your doubts
And sighs outside.

For only love is
drunk here. Love
in all her delight.
Love! Love!
Love without respite!”

So how can we stop drinking Love, my friends? It is a most addictive beverage. A drink distilled by the Very Best of Distiller and promoted by the Very Best of Copywriter …

22. A Heady Draught III
Love is a draught
Exquisite in nature,
Brewed in secret
Like no other,
A loving nectar,
A liquid amber
Coursing through
Your soul like a
Golden river.

So, again and again we order from the bartender, “One more! One more!”, despite the looming hangover which we sometimes suffer because …

.

23. A Heady Draught IV
Without discretion
Love manifests itself
In the morning after
As a painful hangover.

And after 4 prose of Love, where are we? Ah, here… to the fifth and final round, which I invite your toast, ladies and gents, in the honoured remembrance of Abu Yazid al-Bistami, Hallaj, Rumi and Shaykh Abdul Qadir Geylani! Come on, sinners… finish it and I will join you drunk under the Table of the Prophets and Saints! Because, if we are not worthy to sit with them, at least let us get intoxicated under them!
.

A Heady Draught V
If you desire Love, Happy Hour is Every Hour
Alas for those who seek Love without Love,
For only by Love will you find Love.

And if you have passed that stage,
And come to know the Bartender
A little better, then
You will finally realise that
In the Tavern of Love,
All drinks are, In Truth,
On the House!

Have a great Sunday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

.

P/S - First 3 poems here are from the chapter entitled 'How Beautiful Love is' completed 9th October 2009. The last, is happily freshly brewed this wonderful Sunday morning, 14th November 2010. How lucky are we!

Abu Bakar, Abu Yazid, the End of Hell Part II, Calvin & Hobbes and My Left Foot

An anonymous reader left a comment in the earlier posting entitled "God Heart, the Light of Love, the End of Hell and Childhood Memories" asking me to recall the story of Abu Yazid, Abu Bakar and the End of Hell. So here it is. But before we go there, I would like to introduce them both by way of my earlier writings on this worthy fellows. To put these fine chaps in my context.

Abu Bakar as-Siddique was the constant companion of the Prophet. He is generally accepted to be the closest companion of the Prophet. He was the first man to accept the prophethood of Muhammad ibn Abdullah and Islam. His love for his Prophet is beyond my stumbling prose to describe. But I wrote the poem anyway of course…

26. The Stingy Bartender
What is this love you speak of?
A fanciful plaything
We appraise others with,
Conditional and poured from its vessel
In stingy measured draughts.

We should be ashamed to name it love
In the presence of
Muhammad and his Abu Bakar.
……….
Chapter 11, ‘Winter & Rain’, December 2004

Abu Yazid al-Bistami is a saint famously known as the rebuffed visitor at God’s Door. Again and again he was refused entry by God. Each time, God asked him, “Who is knocking on My door?” And each time Abu Yazid replied, “It is I, Abu Yazid, your servant!” Then one day he finally gave the right reply – Abu Yazid answered God’s question, saying, “Oh, It is you, O’ Lord!”. The above cartoon was an early work and inspired by the story of Abu Yazid. The twist in the tale is courtesy of my brother, ergo the ‘by Poon’. Poon is a common Malay nickname for ‘Saiful’. Don’t ask me why. It makes no sense to me too.

THE STORY
(If you wish for an authoritative version, read a book. Or if you happen to bump into any saint, well just ask him/her. I can only recall bits and pieces of what I was told, and which I read in a book. And of course, I have taken great liberty with the language and personality of God and His Saint. I am incorrigible, I know)

So now you know that old Abu Yazid is a great mystic, a champion of Fana-fillah (Annihilation in the Oneness of God), a saint of the highest order, a lover of Muhammad and a true servant of God.

Well, one rosy day, Abu Yazid got it into his head to take his Love of Muhammad one step further. He prayed to God Almighty that he, Abu Yazid, be manifested in Hell, in such an enormous size to fill up each valley, abyss and dungeon of Hades – so that not one member of the Nation of Muhammad shall be fated to dwell and suffer the tribulations of Hell.

God the Lord Creator, being in a buddy-pal relationship with Abu Yazid, answered the saint’s prayers. God said, “Sure, A.Y. But perhaps, before we begin transmogrifying you (to use a Calvin & Hobbes phrase), let me show you Hell first’" The Lord lifted the veil and manifested the unimaginable vision of Hell to poor old Abu Yazid. He was speechless and transfixed, for he saw that the whole of Hell was already fully occupied by a gigantenormous left foot. It was breath-taking. In awe, Abu Yazid asked, “Whose left foot is that?!” God replied (and I would like to think He did so with a smile and a little chuckle), “It is Abu Bakar’s". God-Dramatic-Pause-Here. “He beat you to it. Sorry.”

PROLOGUE
Now your friends are gonna ask - So does Hell exist still? Are we sinners going to be thrown into its welcoming inferno? So what is Abu Bakar’s shoe size? And what about all those infidels? What will their fate be?

Does it matter what the answers are, my friends? If we do good, shouldn’t we feel the joy of kindness and love already? If we do bad, shouldn’t our conscience hurt already? Does the Almighty really need to constantly wield the Carrot of Heaven and the Stick of Hell to herd us lambs in the right path? Sigh…

I do believe in the End of Times. But not as envisioned by some of the fans of Armageddon theology (and I mean both Muslims and Christians). For I believe that in each moment of Creation, the spiritual station of the Prophet and the Saints are rising and rising. That love, mercy and compassion of the divine messengers and prophets is growing ever larger, and we have the good fortune to take shelter under their wing.

I am a poor sickly felon. Please don't rely on me. But you are one of those who are establishing true Lordly worship. I am taking a little sweet from your pantry of sweets. God will bless you for your generous attention towards this guilty but stubbornly happy sinner.

And happily, it is Sunday again, sunshine!

.

Pax Taufiqa.

God Heart, the Light of Love, the End of Hell and Childhood Memories

34. Spinning
Send me if You will, into the blackest places of the Earth!
But will I not bring back the brightest of rubies for You?
And send me if You choose, yea, even to the Valley of Darkness!
And will I not set the Valley ablaze with the Light of Love?

O’ Lord! Your creation cannot contain me,
But Your Heart can.

… And I am the sleeper who mumbles nonsense,
Judged by the bookworms as both mad and reckless.
…………………..
Poem is from the 13th Chapter entitled ‘What is in Your Basket” circa May 2005.

Paragraph 1 is an allegory on an ancient mystic tale pertaining to the End of Hell, and how saints of past have competed to be the first to end Hell. I have heard such stories concerning Abu Bakar as-Siddique and Abu Yazid al-Bistami. It is a wonderful tale and worth recalling. I may do it one day if God Wills and I feel like it.

Paragraph 2 is a play of an often quoted verse, “Neither My Earth nor My Heavens can contain Me, but the heart of a Believing Servant, contains Me.”
.

Paragraph 3 is my own admission of impudence for turning the said verse backwards. But you see, My Lord says He is the First and the Last. And He is the Lord that is Apparent and Hidden. So between the mirror, the reflection and the world, I just get really, really confused. But my confusion is a happy one, like a child running back and forth, torn between the loving embrace of my mother or the welcoming arms of my father.

Can you recall such feelings? God bless you. If we share such childhood memories, how can we not be brothers and sisters?

Have a wonderful day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

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P/P/S Friday 5th Nov 2010 - I now recall an earlier posting pertaining to the End of Hell. Please click 'Mercy and the End of Hell'. The particular poem is the last one in the posting, it is entitled 'The Bridge'.

P/S - I opt for a 'Light' poem to welcome Deepavali tomorrow for my Hindu brethren, especially my friend Sumathi with whom I have spent many hours trading war-stories about our path and search for the inner light.

No.3 If You see Me crying

If you see me crying,
In the midst of
A crowded restaurant,
Don’t worry.
If you see me in tears
While driving,
Don’t worry.
If you see me walking
While tears run down
My cheek,
Fret not.

For I am only in
The midst of remembrance,
In the clutches of a
Jealous love that
Won’t let me go,
But a love yet to be
Consummated in the
Presence of my beloved.

For I am here,
And he is there,

But when he is
Somewhere else,
The truth is
Though I am here,
I am really nowhere.

I have written songs,
I have grafted poems
Upon the lifeless limbs
Of my aching body,
When loneliness
And nothingness which
Drowns me, apart from him,
Leaves me disconsolate
And miserable.

In a breath, he seems
So near, but he isn’t!

But if you see me smiling,
Alone all by myself,
In the crowd of unknowing humanity,
Know that I feel he is near,
And that what is the reality
Which you perceive is yours,
And not mine,

For in my reality,
In the drawing of a smile
From a secret pleasure,
Abu Bakar is with me,
Omar is with me,
Usman is with me,
Ali is with me,
Salman al-Farsi, Jaafar as-Sadiq
And dear Abu Yazid al-Bistami
Are all with me,
With my Masters, with the saints,
With angels whirling upon the leaves
Of trees, while little birds of green feathers
Dash and fly about me.

How happy and ashamed am I then,
To be in the company of such ghosts…

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

From the chapter entitled 'The Ignorance of Piety and the Knowledge of Sin'

Love, Madness and The Illusion of You

Love, Sweetest & Most Bitter

We are loading our donkeys
With tributes and riding them into the sea.
We are the courageous and foolish,
Simpletons on Quixote’s mount,
Undaunted and fearing nothing,
We take our supper under the sky
And quench our thirst with wine
Stolen from our masters’ cellars!

The incorrigible and destitute,
The lost and guided knights
With banners borrowed
From Saladin’s tomb.

Stampeding headlong,
Hardheaded and kindhearted,

To be lost forever in His Ocean,

O’ Love, Sweetest and Most Bitter!

(No.9, from 'Raindrops') If you desire to walk the path, then prepare yourself to stumble, to get lost, to face monster windmills and other illusions that challenged Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Along the way, you may perhaps even face the mightiest illusion of all... the illusion of you. Abu Yazid, Ibnu Arabi, Hallaj and old Rumi may have put it differently, but this is what we call poetic license. Hehehe.