DO NOT JUDGE, BUT LOOK! - your temporary home in the motel of the human spirit.

Look!

Judge ye not my home

By the measure of my little room,

Nor the smallness of my hearth

And kitchen where I cook,

For my true abode is my heart,

And therein beats the name

Of Ahad and Ahmad,

Do not judge, but look! Look!

Judge ye not my grave

By the measure of its length and width,

For my final abode is built 

With the love from my Lord,

And it is finer than any house

Mortal hands may wrought,

Do not judge, but look! Look! 

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

Build your home, but do not be tied to it. Build your home, but do not make it a prison. For your house, your apartment, your flat, your bed-sit is nothing but a temporary place for you. At best it is the highway motel of the human spirit. So look for companions that will aid you in your journey and speed you towards the Divine Presence. And travel as light as you can.

Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. I have always said that writing a poem is like composing a song. It is not about arranging as much words and smart sentences as we can, but what to leave out. So short and simple is always nice. God bless you always...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

LOVE IS BEST WHEN SHARED - you and the bird in the Conference of the Birds

All Birds Will One Day Fly Away

A little bird perched on my shoulder,

And he told me of things I never knew,

Of words and music, of knowledge and beauty,

And he said, "This is the world God has created for you."

As  I grew, from child to teenage turmoil,

Then to manhood and fatherhood,

I grew larger and larger,

And the little bird

Grew smaller

And smaller.

Until one day, the little bird said,

"What I had to share with you I have done so,

So now you must learn to carry on...

And to let me go."

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

Like a Bird. Don't get too attached to the birds that, for a brief while, accompany you in your life, sunshine. For as Nelly Furtado lyrically says... "I am like a bird, I will only fly away, I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is." They cannot remain perched on your shoulder forever, not when the siren call of the Divine Presence resonates within them daily. And with each beat of their mortal heart the song becomes more urgent, ever more arresting. Until one day, the bird can't stand it any longer, and finally surrenders to the eternal song of the Lord, to close their eyes forever and to fly to Allah (swt).

The bird in the poem is in reference to my late brother, Saiful a.k.a. Poone. But we are all birds. And as a bird, we must always remind the person that we are with, of our own mortality. "I love you...", we might say to our beloved, but add this necessary truth, "But Allah (swt) and the Prophet Muhammad (saws) loves you best of all. I will one day die. But the Love of Allah and Habibullah will always remain your faithful companion. If I were to suddenly go tomorrow, do remember me in your prayers. But never forget God Almighty and your Master Muhammad Sayyidina Mutahharul Janan (saws), through whom you may love me forever!"

Love is Best When Shared, don't you agree, sunshine? And it is best when it is eternal. Our mortality? Mortality is only a technical issue to be sorted out as we walk along this path of love.

So don't worry. Be happy. Remember.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

footnote: 
Sketch by Amir Adam Mohd Zahurein

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE SHIRK OF SELF - sharing or associating blame to something or someone other than me

Yesterday's sunset

The Shirk of Self & Blameworthiness

Between yesterday's sunset

And today's sunrise,

I have learnt of

The Shirk of Self and 

The Shirk of Blameworthiness;

When for the longest time I have associated

My self to something or someone other than me

By associating my sins and mistakes to something or someone other than me.

So lest I forget, let me declare that I bear witness that

There is none more blameworthy than me

In all that I do or fail to do!

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

What is shirk? At its basic as taught to me all those many years ago, shirk is the act of associating or making a partner to God Almighty, or in another way, by associating or partnering God to other things or deities. 

The Shirk of Self and Blameworthiness is a form of shirk where the sinner associates his sins, his neglect and errors to something or someone other than himself. It is running away from the oneness of his blameworthiness, and the veiling of his sins from himself. This is spiritual poison as.. 

...we must accept the blame, and let blame call us by our own name...

Because the alternative is impossible. The alternative path is the path of rejecting one of the beautiful divine attributes of Allah (s.w.t.) when He Himself said in a hadith (oral tradition) of our majestic Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), 

"O' My servants, I have forbidden oppression for Myself and have made it forbidden amongst you, so do not oppress one another."

Oppression has a very wide meaning and would include being unfair, and placing blame unfairly. Were we to blame something else or (even worse) someone else for our own folly and misdeeds, we have not only oppressed that something else or someone else, but we would have also denied God's absolute utter Fairness and Rightness by claiming, "How can I be blamed? It was him, it was her! It was the weather, it was the hunger, it was the Sun, it was the Moon, it was time! It was the lack of time! It was too much time! It was my work, it was my parents who failed to bring me up well! It was the day, it was the night! It was everything and everyone else... I cannot be blamed. I am not to be blamed! There speaks the ego of Mankind through the ages.

Acceptance of blame is the acceptance of the power of Allah the Changer of People, Things and Circumstances. Ya Allah... I am to be blamed! I am the blameworthy one! You are the One that cannot be blamed for any wrong! So in Your Rightness, right me! In your Absolute Utter Correctness, correct me! Guide me and leave me not a moment alone to the whispers of my ego and the Accursed one! O' Thou Who art the Only Owner of Absolute Fairness, Place me amongst the Nation of Muhammad, upon whom shines a Lamp Fair and Wonderous beyond the contemplation of mortal men!

Phew. 

Hi there, sunshine. What are you doing here today, reading the ramblings of this sinner? There must be some purpose... come to my life and help me, for I am ever in need of those that Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) has sent to guide me to goodness, away from the ego-centric deception of my shirk of myself. 

Today's sunrise.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

My Friendship with you, Mr. So-and-So and Ms. So-and-So - with God, masyaAllah... anything is possible!

Friendship In the Name of Muhammad

My friend,

Our friendship was a molten love

Set burning into a mould of love

That spelt ’In the Name of Muhammad…’

My friend,

Our friendship is borne upon a sea of tears,

Of sadness and happiness, as we set

Our sails to the wind,

Upon our ship called ‘In the Name of Muhammad…’

My friend,

Our regrets and bitter lessons

Were forged upon a high mountain pass,

And it is nothing but a bridge across

This yawning chasm of mortal reality,

And the bridge is called ‘In the Name of Muhammad…’

My friend,

This life, this precious love and friendship that we share

Is a band of gold long preserved in the smithy of God,

Worn upon a finger all too mortal and human,

But cast upon a spirit in loving servitude to Ahad,

And yes… once again

‘In the Name of Muhammad.’

……………………..

It is my joyous and unearned blessing to find my friends in the Garden of Muhammad, the Prophet of God(pbuh). Smiling, loving, living, crying, tearful, angry, patient, succeeding, failing... but always inspired.

And dare I say it... some are here with me though they may not even be known as Muslims. For if the time comes, and by some sheer grace and intervention of Muhammad(pbuh) that I am brought to a Good Place of Good People, I must ask... "Where is Mr. So-and-So... and where is Ms. So-and-So... How can I be happy when they are not here with me?"

You know... I guess it is impertinent for a sinner such as I to conjecture such possibilities. After all... I am a sinner, what am I to do in a Good Place of Good People? 

But you, sunshine... You belong there. I know it and believe in my heart that you belong there. You are one of those Good People that the angels often whisper about... You are one of the saintly ones whom the Saints themselves like to gossip over a cup of tea. 

If you are reading this, then with certainty, it is you. My own immortal sunshine, my friend, my love...

God bless you...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

PS: Or alternatively, the Angel of the Good Place may reply to my earlier query thus, "Why... Mr So-and-So? Ms. So-and-So? Why... they were the ones who entreated with God Himself for your company! Let me take you to them! They will be delighted that God answered their prayers!" With God... masyaAllah... anything is possible.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Mecca of Man

Thy Hallowed House

O’ Lord,

It is not piety that drove me to Thee,

It is not virtues that made me plead to Thee,

It is not faith that led me to Thy Hallowed Sanctuary,

Nor is it patience that allowed me to endure

What Thou has bestowed for me.

O’ Lord,

For Thou knowest best what I hide in my chest

That no other can see, and Thou knowest completely

My selfishness, hubris and vanity.

But as Thou had honoured

The dry arid desert of Mecca

To bear Thy Hallowed House

Honour my dry arid heart

And make me bear Thy name, o' Ahad

And Thy Beloved Prophet, o' Ahmad!

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

God could have His House built anywhere, but He commanded Prophet Abraham, some 5,000 years ago or more to build it in the middle of the desert of the Arabian Peninsular in the place now known as Mecca. If God was going for accessibility of location, a temperate climate with rich forests and fertile meadows God could have chosen thousands upon thousands of other places. Instead He chose Mecca.

And He could have chosen so many others who are wiser, and more patient, disciplined and stronger than you. But He chose you. Verily, God plans best and the Prophet(pbuh) is His best!

How blessed are you, o' Mecca of Man.

Have a lovely day, sunshine

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Not a Miracle, Merely Love - sometimes, having simple expectations really helps.

Not a Miracle, Merely Love

I saw a cloud in the sky

And the tail of my master’s turban,

But it is not a miracle,

It is merely love.

I placed my hand on the trunk

Of a tree, and someone said

Verily, the master used to do that,

But it is not a miracle,

It is merely love.

I sat on the steps of a building

And someone commented,

Verily, the master used to sit there

Just like that, with his feet

Swinging in the air,

But it is not a miracle,

It is merely love.

I am a sinner and a fool,

But my master is beautiful,

And he does not reject me

Nor turn me away,

But it is not a miracle,

It is merely love.

I write of history,

Of the present,

And sometimes even

Of what is meant to be,

But it is not a miracle

Nor am I Nostradamus,

It is merely love.

People see miracles and magic,

But I only see of love.

People see mysteries and wonder,

But I only see my master.

And really, that is enough

For the likes of me.

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

And sometimes, it is meeting someone
special that is a grand little
miracle...

Miracles? I have enough miracles already to last me several life times. Honest. Like how I found my car keys again after dropping them in a pitch black cinema. Like how I passed my honours and Bar finals. Like how I was born to a fine lady of a mother and a lovely if slightly demented family. Like how butterflies often hover near and how the trees let fall a shower of flowers and leaves along the path. And how the dog downstairs is finally noticing me after weeks of my saying hello to him. But of course, perhaps for some people, such things are not miraculous at all.

Do you think I should set my standards for miracles higher? Like splitting the Moon in two, walking on water or bringing the dead to life?

The Miracle of Man. But the truth is that I am happy this way. This life appears seldom boring or dull, and sprinkled aplenty with fairy dust. Perhaps the greatest miracle of all is our very own existence and our very own being. Because as one spiritual acolyte recently shared with me, Man affects and changes the environment that he enters into. Whether it is in his house, out in the garden, in his workplace or among animals of the forest. Always affecting for the better, if what he looks for is goodness.

It is this ability, and his latent strength to rise up again however low he may fall as an alley cat in the gutter that is perhaps, the greatest miracle of all. How fine and beautiful has God designed you, sunshine!

From here, I can see it already. Plain as daylight under the sun of Ahad and remaining luminous under the moon of Ahmad.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Be Careful What Book You Pick Up, It May Be The Lord's! - the rain and the dervish

It Rained All Day And Night

It rained all day and night,

It rained with no respite,

It rained till morning came

And the Sun woke up.

It rained all day and night,

It rained with no respite,

But it bothered not the dervish

Busy filling his loving cup.

It rained all day and night,

It rained with no respite,

But there stayed the dervish

With his book, thinking...

"One must not be irritated

By every rub!"

It rained all day and night,

It rained without respite,

It rained till the riverbanks broke

But not once from his dream

Did the dervish awoke...

Wandering as he was

In the vast expanse

Of his heart,

In rapture of

Ahad and

Ahmad!

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

You Must Be Careful

You must be careful what book you pick up. 
You must be careful into whose dreams you intrude. 
You must be careful through whose garden gate you peer into. 
And one must always be careful whose door one knocks upon... 
For if it is the Lord's, He is not one to leave your attention unanswered. 
Every question you ask of Him, He shall answer. 
Every riddle you pose to Him, He will certainly reply. 
He is after all, our One Lord God, and He is not one to leave 
His servants stumbling about with their whats, whos, hows and whys...

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

And if you think that God is miserly in granting His undivided attention to His servants... you have not yet found His door. It is not difficult, you need only ask and you will be invited in.

This is not the Lord's Door of course.
This is a door to the Lord's Door.
And it needs a new coat of paint.

Welcome! Welcome!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

We Get You Connected - Prose of Ramadhan Part 59

10. God’s Answering Machine

God answers all calls,

And has no need for an answering machine.

If you think that He did not pick up the phone,

Or if you hear only static at the other end,

It is because you are not ready to listen and accept,

The answers are all there,

Preserved in your memory,

To be retrieved by pressing ‘Accept Message’.

This public info has been brought to you

By the Prophetic Telephone Company Ltd.

We are all 'Live' Performances from One Single Concerto of Love

2. Music, Truth and Mercy
Music is prohibited for none,
Advisable for a few,
Optional for others,
Highly recommended for the rest,
And mandatory for a number.

Truth is for all.
And Mercy is for the asking.
Heh!

No two 'live' playing of a song is ever the same. To replicate accurately the way Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart played his concertos is to be Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart playing his concertos. And even then, each performance of his music will be different from one to the next. There are simply immeasurable factors to replicate accurately.

I think mankind is a 'live' performance of God’s Own Concerto. Each man is different from another man. Each Eve is absolutely different from another Eve. And it gets even more cloudy when the Taufiq typing this blog now is different from the Taufiq having his lunch some five hours ago. Thus we are different from each other, and in ourselves we are different from one moment to the next. And yet, we have only One Conductor, and the piece of music that we manifest resonates from One Single Concerto of Love.

I am no renaissance man. My musical interest spans classical music, the happy hippies of the 60s, the rockers of the 70s, the happy (but hideous fashion) New Wavers of the 80s, right up to the new millennium. I am happy with Bach, Mozart, Duran Duran, the Carpenters, the Who, and yes... even Lady GaGa (despite her music videos being both ridiculous and contrived)

Music crosses borders, sexes, race and religion. I could be hearing the words of the Band Perry, Cat Stevens (aka Yusuf Islam) or Led Zeppelin… but to my soul’s ear, it is one single lament for love, a yearning for the Divine Infinity while we are still tied to our very human mortality.

It is all good and beautiful, sunshine. What is love without a little yearning?

And as the prose says… Truth is for all, and Mercy is for the asking. So ask...

Pax Taufiqa.

If you are a newbie, I have written earlier postings on music. Here are some of them -

God, Prophet & Rock & Roll (Click Here), God, Prophet and Rock & Roll Part 2 (Click Here), Night of the Nightingales (Click Here), God took away my chance to die young - The Band Perry (Click Here).

Women, you know not how you affect us...

42. Molten Love Bell
You come into my life,
And do this and speak that,
Thinking perhaps,
What little effect
I have on him!

Now, truly know that
Sometimes you are pulling
Bells of a cathedral raised
High in the hidden realm,

The bells are cast
In molten love,
From a fountain
That runs from
The lake of Ahmad
To the sea of Ahad.

And my heart is shaken
By the reverberations
From bone to thin skin,
And I cower in awe,
Wondering what does
This all mean.

Love, for me is a tiring thing. It is just like life when the Prophet once said, "You can rest, Taufiq, ... when you are dead." Well, he didn't put it that way, but the gist is there. And it is doubly so when Love, that intangible element finds its form in a woman - in her face, in her form and in her little gestures that was especially designed by the All-Greatest Designer (aka Mr.God) to attract your attention. She may be totally oblivious of your change of heart, she may be ignorant of your constant contemplation, but there you are. You are stuck, sunshine - An Adam neck deep in the morass of clueless infatuation with Eve (as most men find themselves in), blinking and pondering what to do next. Such is the beautiful tribulation that Love manifests in our hearts.

For Men - Good luck in riding the wave of love sprung from the Ocean of Unalloyed Joy. It is as beautiful, grand and lovely as God promised you... but boy, expect to fall into the ocean a couple of times at least (once a day, is a good ratio) Hehehe.

For Women - You know not how you affect us men!

To the lovers of Love, to the students of affection, to the custodians of responsibility, have a beautiful and Loveful Day.

Pax Taufiqa.

Sinners' Dictionary - the Meaning of Patience and Mothers

30. Patience is a …
Patience is a jewel
Set between the
Contracting and expanding
Of the heart.
It is in the pause
Between a cause
And consequence,
Between revelation
And either submission
Or rebellion.

Patience is a good thing. Indeed, a good dead friend of mine once said that it is the KEY to happiness. "It is not inaction," he said. "It is ACTIVE submission to life's ups and downs, and to do such things which commonly gives you happiness. This is important to remember, Taufiq," His tone pressing the point, "Patience is not mere fatalistic acceptance."

Then he smiled and poked my belly. "So you know you are fat, but more importanly, unhealthy. What are YOU going to do about it?"

Sigh. Everyone wants to make a comment. But I guess its because there is just a lot of everyone who loves us and cares for our wellbeing.

It is smart to submit to God's Love. Because ultimately, we ALL submit one day, breathing our last, and closing our eyes upon the last sight of our beloved family and friends, crowding around our deathbed. I was there when my mother submitted to God's final call. She did not struggle anymore, she simply closed her eyes and never opened them again. After a life-long practice of active submission, I could almost hear her answer, "Yes, yes, my Lord. I am coming. What kept You?"

Love and Death. Isn't this the Truth of our existence shared by all of us? If this is so, why do we bother fighting during the brief time alloted to us from the moment our mother cradles us in her arms and the time we are finally lowered into the embracing earth of our grave? May God guide us all in the unity of our worship to the One God, however we may extol His Praise, and by whatever name we call unto Him.

This is a prayer that is close to my mother's heart, and I believe, in the heart of all mothers. God bless all our mothers!

Pax Taufiqa.

The Ocean of Ahad and Ahmad upon our Battered and Broken Shore

In the summer of 1994, while I was studying in Leeds University, I went on a trip to the south of England and there I found the captivating and wondrous Cornwall, the southern end of Britain which stretches its green toes into the North Atlantic Ocean. For the past 4 years I have not travelled much, remaining like a frog under a coconut shell here in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

It is good to travel. And in these past 3 weeks, I have journeyed further than I have ever did since 2007, venturing to the Holy Land and later to Jakarta. I returned from the Indonesian capital last Thursday a little weary, with a withering cough that is threatening to rip my chest in two. Well, maybe that is poetic exaggeration . I am a little unwell, that's all. Hehehe.

From my trips abroad however I have realised so many things - of my own faults, weaknesses and mistakes. I realise (and I should) how subtle is the human animal, how we are likely to be carried by the weight of our passion for what is good, not so good, naughty and down-right bad. I have little skill for either, but even as a sinner with no talent - it is easy to be bad. So this evening, as I awake from a frenetic Saturday night, I would like to assure my self that I am not alone in this challenge, and that however the day may turn out, we are all safe between the hands of Ahad and Ahmad, between God and His Prophet. That sadness and regret, however bitter, is but a blink of the cosmic eye, and only goodness is real and eternal. An ocean of virtue and love upon our battered and broken shore. So..., anyone for a beach picnic?!

1. Now tell me

How lucky am I to do evil at you,

For you are the discrete ones,

And you are loath to disclose

My misdeeds!

Indeed, I can see it in your eyes,

That you have drawn a veil

Between my misdeeds

And me.

How lucky am I!

Now tell me,

Who is this Lord of yours

To have such gracious servants?

Who is this Muhammad of yours

To have such a follower

Of merciful discretion?

If you are but a small sand

On the shores of your truth,

Oh, how beautiful must be

The Sea of Ahad and Ahmad!

Good curses on you,

For damning me now

With a yearning for something

So peaceful and calming!

1. Your reasons in the Hidden Realm.

When, how and where

You do what you do

Discloses a little

Of your intention.

But it is not all,

For only those

Who are keen and

Able to sift through

Your sands of confusion

In the Hidden Realm

Will ever really know.

And even that they

Partake from Muhammad,

Claiming nothing out

Of their own endeavours,

Being mere tributaries

Of a river

Flowing to the

Ocean Of Prophetic Wisdom.

Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. I know it is sometimes hard to be happy and contented. But you must try. For that is the reality and every other interpretation is a falsehood fabricated by our wilful ego that is never ever satisfied. Pray for me.

Pax Taufiqa