The Boy Scouts and the Sufi Orders - the good reasons to join are all with God

Boy Scouts, Essex, England. circa 1919

60. Associations

If you are looking for a uniform,

If you want to form a gang,

Join the Boy Scouts.

At least you will learn how to make fire,

And other useful skills.

Once you have exhausted your need

For peer approval,

Come and look for us!

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

People join the Sufi orders through a myriad of circumstances and for differing personal reasons. And for some people, it is to fill a desire for association with a particular group of persons. To attain that deep and very human instinct to 'belong'. But as things never happen by sheer coincidence, often those personal reasons are mere disguises hiding the true reason, which is held by God and the Prophet.

For instance, some people are greatly attracted and motivated by the magical views and vistas often offered in not just the Sufi path, but all other mystical path of mainstream religions. But that too is not the real reason to join a Sufi order...

174. Hiking

Malcontents!

If you are wont for beautiful sceneries,

Book yourself on a hiking tour.

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

Because after all, if God had wanted Man to fly, He would have given him wings, and if God had wanted Man to swim under the sea, He would have given Man gills. No, as God has offered Man the most sublime gift ever offered... the opportunity to be a servant of God, He has given the one thing which differs Man (and Djinn too) from the rest of creation... the ability to reason and to choose. That is the greatest miracle of them all, and not some silly sport of flying... As the famous female saint Rabia al-Adawiyya once commented to Hasan al Basri (a famous contemporary male saint) as he came swooping down from the skies to visit her, "O' Hasan... even birds can fly!"

I thought Rabia already told these Saints to stay put on the ground!

Yes, indeed. Even birds can fly. But Mankind... we can choose. May patience and your best virtues guide your choice always, sunshine. And when you have mastered that, call me. Because I am still learning. 

(And truth be told, I am less judgmental about the reasons people join the Sufis. These 2 poems were written some 8 years ago when I was a lot more naive. Now my personal view is much more free market and who cares what reason propelled people to the Sufi path. For now that you are here... Welcome! Welcome!)

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Snapshots along the Path - Cartoon Saturday Part 1!

Good morning, sunshine. I am still not awake. Around midnight, Mikhail, my brother and myself drove to a nearby food-court for a late supper. Now you can blame me for being lazy, but I shall not write anything today. So I hope you don't mind if I re-hash some of my old cartoons. I hope you have not read any of them yet. In the early years, I have found that a cartoon sketch sometimes best illustrates the interesting and curious occurrences in the spiritual journey of the Path (Tariqa). I try(ish) to be a good mureed (student) and be all serious, but frankly when I catch my reflection on the mirror, I cannot help but sometimes laugh...

(Footnote: Rabia al-Adawiyah is an uber-famous female Sufi saint. She has the
propensity of twisting the turban tails of male Sufi saints... hehehe)

Have a wonderful sabbath, sunshine. Always look on the light side of life.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Keepsakes from Jerusalem and Medina - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 29

Maqam of Muhammad, within the holy precinct of the Masjid Nabawi, Medina.

Before I left for my Umrah Pilgrimage in end March 2011, I collected the du'a (prayers) that my friends and family desired that I ask in the holy mosques of the Masjidil Haram (Mecca), Masjid Nabawi (Medina) and Masjidil al-Aqsa (Jerusalem). I wrote it all in a little black journal which accompanied me on that beautiful journey. Typically, my elder brother, Saiful, was the last to pass me his du'a, which he wrote on a rough paper. That too I inserted into my book and when the time finally arrived that I was in the precinct of the Prophet's Maqam (tomb), I recited his words -

Ya Rasulullah, Peace and Blessings be upon you, your family and upon your noble companions.

Ya Mustafa, the Chosen One, the Servant of Mercy, sent by the All-Merciful to guide us back to our Lord,we ask you for your succour and support for the Hour is drawing ever closer, lest we be the lost ones, denied the sight and presence of Saidina Mahdi and Saidina Isa, Peace be upon them both.

Forgive us, Allah, for the sake of Your Beloved who rests now here, grant us this honour for the sake of Your Chosen One, that he may greet us at the Pool of Khawtar with happiness, well-pleased with us, and You, ya Allah, well-pleased with us.

Amin

A beautiful prayer, yes? My brother writes quite well, I think. It is easy to write when you write with sincerity.

In between the pages I also came across this little olive branch which I stole from the olive tree that grows closest to the entrance of the Maqam of Rabia (the famous female Sufi saint) on top Mount Olive in Jerusalem. I am not sure what to do with it now. But it is a keepsake, like all the memories of a sinner in pilgrimage.

Thank you, sunshine, for allowing me to share these memories with you. God bless your warm fuzzy hearts.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

An Intermission to the Prose of Ramadhan - Rabia, Auntie Nab, My Mother and Father

Before I left for my pilgrimage (umrah) last March I jotted down a quick postie about the famous Sufi saint, a woman by the name of Rabi'ah al-'Adawiyah - Earlier Posting entitled "Auntie Nab, Rabia & Salman in Jerusalem". In the same post, I also wrote about my Auntie Nab, a person in my life of immense importance. For when my father was doing his Senior Cambridge exams in the Malay College Kuala Kangsar, my mother was the second youngest daughter of Haji Hashim, the chief clerk of the college. My mother was a go-getter from the word go, literally. She asked Auntie Nab, for they were friends, as to which of the boys in the six form was the smartest. And Auntie Nab listed down my father as a likely suspect. My father was a nerd you see, before the word was invented. I guess in the old days you would call him a bookworm. Excellent in mathematics and english, and a diligent student.

Well, to cut the story short, Auntie Nab arranged and matched my father and mother together. From whose union was sprung three unlikely boys by the names of Zahurein, Saiful and the sinner. Auntie Nab has always been a part of my life, being such an old and dear friend of both my parents. My mum's other friends may be a little reticent of my father, being the dour and brooding presence that he is. But not Auntie Nab. In her gravely voice she would admonish my father for whatever contratemp or weakness that she felt he exhibited. Not many people can do that to my dad. She was able to do it because she knew my father better than any other of my mum's wide clique. Zainab was my father's college mate, you see. The only girl in an all-boys school, and if I am not mistaken, the first girl ever to be admitted into the famous college. I guess the authorities found this girl from the sleepy town of Taiping simply too intelligent to deny her a place, despite being of the wrong sex.

After my mother's death, I remember spending some time with her talking about things. And it was in one of those, now all too few conversations, that she spoke of Rabia and her fondness for the female saint. She asked me that if I were to find any book on Rabia to get it for her. I never did, not that I recall finding one. But I always thought that I would see her again, you see, and get her that darn book. Now this shall never come to pass.

I am just told by my father that Auntie Nab passed away yesterday in Melbourne, Australia.

I am a little sad. My father didn't talk much over dinner and he looked sad too. But I am happy that my mother shall have one of her greatest friends with her now. And really, Auntie Nab can ask Rabia directly all she ever wanted to know about the female Sufi saint. I have no doubt they shall have a lot to talk about. May God bless her beautiful soul and cherish Auntie Nab in the Light of the Prophet and all his Saints.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Postscript: As I write this, my dear friend Ariffin, who is presently performing his pilgrimage in Mecca is praying in front of the holy Kaaba for Auntie Nab and her safe deliverance into the loving embrace of God. I am a sinner, you see. But for some unaccountable reason, God has ensured that I would at least have some friends with better and more direct connection with Him. God is Most Curious that way. I think Auntie Nab, who was a particularly curious person too, would fall in love with God again and again. Of that I have no doubt.

In the Cloisters of Love

A GOOD MORNING. When I woke up Sunday morning, I knew it would be a special day. For I felt happy, and I cannot discern why. While still lying in bed half awake I said thank you to God, and muttered some prayers that I could recall.

A BOOK FOUND. As I got up and just at the moment I was about to place my feet on the ground, I said Bismillahirahmanirahim, uttering ‘In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful’ as is the convention of many of my brethren. Immediately my gaze settled on the pile of books sitting on top of my cabinet, and lo and behold, there, safely tucked between some books were my pilgrimage journal, and inside it, in between the leafs, an olive branch I stole away from the Jerusalem Shrine of Rabia, the famous female Sufi saint. Long was I missing the journal which I thought lost. Hmm. Good beginning, I felt.

A FALL. Later that morning, as I was showering, I slipped on the soapy floor and tumbled like a sack of potatoes unto the hard tiles, but strangely, I was calm and not my normal self. On another day, I would probably be thrown into a fit of incandescent rage at my sorry luck. But this time, as I fell, it was almost in slow motion. And when I got up, I muttered, “Alhamdulillah’" - Praise be to God. I felt that it was not me saying the words, but I was defiantly committed to be happy today.

ALONE IN THE RAIN. In the rainy afternoon, I was alone. I called all my friends nearby to join me for chai (tea) but nobody was available. So I went out on my own. And sitting quietly in the crowded restaurant, I felt contented as I read the latest book I purchased yesterday.

Profoundly moved by the book, I immediately picked up my phone to sms my friends, Ariffin and Longhair a long message which I shall share with you one day. But for now, let me unfold the words that are now flowing through the door of my soul left unlocked by some forgetful Cherubim...

In the Cloisters of Love

I am the Library of Love in an abbey, so enter my cloisters to read about your destiny,
.

I am the Harbour of Love by the sea, so sail into my arms

And rest your weary fleet

By the warmth of a White Fire,
.

I am the Kitchen of Love for the hungry, so please take a seat

And sate your hunger and thirst with me,
.

I am the Stable of Love, so enter me and rein whatever knowledge

You need to ride in your Journey,
.

I am the Field of Love, so walk unto me and graze upon

The Sweet Grass of a Loving Lord,
.

I am the Lantern of Love, so take me by your hand

And light the darkest corner of your world with my light.

I am the Temple of Love, and now that I have invited Love in,

There is no need for me to be me any more...
.

Only for you to answer "I will."

And pass through my door

As my father, my mother,

my brother, my sister,
or my Master.

It is the greatest jest that God is playing that I am writing this. Me, the fool and unashamed charlatan. Me, the lazy (and fat) self-satisfied wordsmith. Me, the one of no significant achievement, save as being a very regular and very committed sinner.

Yet every day, I try to write as much as I can. And it is an honour, a mark pleasure which I cannot express to have my words read by you, sunshine… wherever and whoever you may be. I just felt you oughta know that.

Pax Taufiqa.

The Sinner & the Phoenix - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 19

THE FIREBIRD. The mythical firebird known as the Phoenix exists in perhaps all great civilizations across the globe. This flaming pigoen appears in Persian, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Japanese and Chinese lore. This bird is like the dragon (and also the Green Man) who appears to make their appearances in the most unlikely (and unconnected) of folklores and traditional beliefs. Where there is smoke there is fire they say (well, unless its dry ice!). But we are not here to delve into the story of the mythical Phoenix, interesting as it may be. For you see, during his pilgrimage the sinner was accompanied by his very own Phoenix too, albeit of the wooden sort. Below is a picture of my own firebird (sans beak)...KING OF SAINTS. I purchased my Phoenix walking stick from my good buddy Ahmad Alatas from Indonesia. I asked him what sorta bird whose head crowns the cane. He said it was the Rajawali bird. In Malay that means the King of Saints (or the Saint King). I chuckled thinking that I would need all the help I can get as I begin my pilgrimage, and what better help for a sinner than a saint? And a King of Saints at that! Later, I found out that Rajawali is the Malay name for the mythical Phoenix.

BROKEN BEAK. Alas, even before arriving in Jerusalem I must have accidentally dropped my Phoenix, and a bit of the upper beak was broken. Distraught (and rather tired) I resolved to just dump the bally thing in Queen Alia Airport, Jordan. But my buddy, Ariffin, advised me not to, and to at least keep it until we reach Medina. There, he said, you can leave it at Masjid Nabawi (the Prophet's Mosque). Reluctantly, I agreed.

And so my Phoenix accompanied me all day and night for the entire 14 days of my pilgrimage. It followed me into the Masjidil Aqsa and Rabia's shrine in Jerusalem, Moses's shrine along the way to Jericho, to the Prophet's Raudah (Garden) in the Masjid Nabawi in Medina, and finally, when I performed the tawaf (the 7 circumambulation around the Holy Kaaba, Mecca), it was there with me, my support and constant companion. Rarely was I ever without my Phoenix. And rarely did I not drop it, so that when it came to the last day in Mecca a friend of mine suggested, "Taufiq, if we stay just a couple more days here, I reckon not only will your bird be beakless, it will be headless." And I think he is right.

I HIT SOMEONE IN FRONT OF THE HOLY KAABA. Well, I never did leave the cane in Masjid Nabawi. I have grown too fond of its ugly and broken beak, and the crease and carving of its head have become familiar in my hands. Initially, I was worried that perhaps the guards in the two great mosques in Medina and Mecca might not take kindly to a pilgrim lugging a walking stick depicting an animal (in strict Wahabbi regulation - I do not think it is actually permissable). But nobody stopped me, nobody questioned me, even when I was raising the Phoenix's head high amongst the masses of pilgrims circumambulating the Holy Kaaba. I didn't want to accidentally hit someone's legs or body, you see - And this is the embarassing bit - because I did in fact hit someone's head - the head belonged to a poor Turkish lady, and I accidentally hit her when an idiot behind me nudged my elbow. Wait, wait... It wasn't a hard knock really, so don't judge me. Maybe it was a divine intervention because she was thinking some impure thoughts? Hehehe. Okaaay... I am just kidding!

Well, such is life. Go to the Holy Kaaba, and you get beaned by a sinner.

Have a nice day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Jesus, Rabia, Moses and the Pigeons - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 14

JERUSALEM, WEDNESDAY 23RD MARCH 2011, 4AM. What do you do when you are up and wide awake at 4am in Jerusalem? What else can you do but wash your underwear? My sainted mother would have been so proud. Anyway it was difficult to return back to sleep, not when Arjuna was snoring like a buffalo in heat in the next bed. As light dawned upon a cold (very very cold) and rainy morning in the Old City, I wandered out to the balcony for a cigarette. While shivering and puffing in my towel, I noticed that just across the road was a lawyer's office, "R.M. BEDOUN ADVOCATE" (zoom in on above pic). It crossed my mind to pay a visit to my learned friend later in the morning, but alas our tour schedule did not permit it. I stamped out the cancer stick on a bed of flowers and went indoors to the warmth of the room and my friend's melodious snoring. I remember wondering that, if we both snored at the same sound frequency, whether we would actually cancel out each other's snore. I never found out the answer.

WARM MILK is an excellent beverage when you find yourself being whipped by a bracing cold breeze in wet wet Jerusalem. It appears that despite what Abu Ayob said (No rain at all this year), we Malaysians have brought our Malaysian weather to the Holy Land. We are rainmakers. You can do the same too. Just try washing your car. While sipping my white drink, my friends returned from morning prayers at the al-Aqsa (yes, Taufiq... there was something better to do then washing your underwear). Less than 5 minute later a group of French Catholics returned from their morning worship too (probably not in the al-Aqsa). I timidly ventured a bonjour, and the old bidies replied cheerfully back Bonjour!

WHERE IS THE BUS?! Ariffin, myself and Ijan (who looked like Genghiz Khan in his furry hat) out in the entrance of the Holy Land Hotel. Waiting and waiting (and waiting) for the tour bus to arrive. As it turned out, the bus arrived almost 2 hours late, thereby pushing our scheduled tour, already precariously hanging on the ledge, into the ravine of the impossible. It will have dire effect later when the bus had to cross the border and reach Queen Alia Airport, Amman by 6pm to catch our flight to Medina.

THE DIVINE ELEVATOR. We visited the Chapel of the Ascension (on the Mount of Olives), where Christians (some at least) believed that Jesus ascended to heaven after calming down his companions following the exaggerated news of his death. Right next to the Chapel was a surau (small mosque). The signs says it clearly I think, but Ariffin, being Ariffin, went in anyway. I was shy and only took pictures from the outside. Yup. I should have just gone in. The secret of a successful pilgrimage is knowing when to follow the rules and when to disobey them. But I always get mixed up.

Well, there you see it - the Chapel of the Ascension, or some calls it the Dome of the Ascension. Both Muslims and Christians frequent this spot, much like many other holy places in this amazing city. One faith would enter the Chapel, examine the inside and probably pray to God, then the next would enter and repeat just the same.

Probably the most celebrated feature of the Chapel is the reputed footprint of Jesus. I looked pretty closely, but I cannot see it. Well, try and zoom into the picture and see if you can trace the outline. Maybe you can do better than me.

I noticed a pair of pigeons in the ledge of the Chapel. It would be the first pair of thousands of pigeons which appear to inhabit all the holy places that I would soon to visit, ergo the Maqam of Moses, the Prophet's Mosque, and the Masjidil Haram in Mecca.

"Well...? Are they Muslims or Christians?" one pigeon asked the other, perched on their bird's eye view of our group. The other replied in pigeon talk, "I don't know, Earl. They look kinda the same from here..."

"Jesus? You are looking for him? And so is Herod and the Elders? Well, I think he went thataway..."

RABI'AH AL-'ADAWIYAH. Her maqam was just next door to the Chapel of the Ascension. (But before we continue, let us be clear that when we refer to 'maqam' it doesn't necessarily mean 'tomb' or 'grave'. For many maqams, it is essentially a place of significance of the dead Prophet or Saint. He or she perhaps prayed or even lived there for awhile during their sainted lives. It makes sense really, as maqam also means 'station'. So you can say that this Maqam of Rabia's is her Jerusalem Station. Where she is in fact actually (and finally) buried is in the knowledge of her Friend, God. Well, station, substation or shrine, we were very delighted to finally arrive at Rabia's maqam. Most did not stay long in the subterranean cavern, but myself, Saiful and Ariffin remained for awhile longer with the presence of this amazing female saint, who was so sought after by many, many male saints of her day. If you do find yourself on Mount Olive, remember to contact and make prior arrangements with the custodian family of the shrine. They hold the key to her maqam.

ON THE SLOPES OF THE MOUNT OF OLIVES is a famous Jewish cemetery. Believing Jews would love to be buried here as according to their faith, whoever is buried on this holy slopes shall be the first ones to be judged by God and ergo, not to dwell too long in limbo. Our guide informs us that it can cost as much as USD90,000 for a single plot here. But if what theJews believe is true, I think it is a worthwhile investment to avoid an eternity in limbo, don't you?

MAQAM OF MOSES. After taking pictures in the freezing rain, we finally left Jerusalem on our way to the Shrine of Moses. (I will use the term maqam and shrine interchangeably. Why? Because I can. Okay, no more back-talk). After about 45 minutes drive across a grey and brown desert, the highway passing by many construction sites (what the heck are they building in the middle of this desert wilderness?), we finally arrived at our destination. Moses's Shrine stood in a solitary building complex (small-ish) far from any human settlement. Outside, Arab traders were making brisk business in ice-cream, rosary beads and a camel ride - "This camel, is the grandchild of the grandchild of the grandchild of the 300th generation of a camel that Moses once rode!" Okay, I am making that up. But you must remember that Jerusalem and Palestine-Israel has been in the God-bothering pilgrims' guidebook for centuries.

I was shy with the memory of the fiery red-headed and red-bearded Prophet. After all, he was known to be a strict Prophet (and I am not using the term 'strict' lightly here). After meandering about the compound listlessly, finally I took courage and entered the surau.MOSES KALAMULLAH, PROPHET OF GOD. In the cosy green carpeted interior I pulled out my journal, full of prayers and messages for Prophets from my friends and family. I went through the wish list of my friend Shal the Longhair, my brother Zahurein, my second brother Saiful and lastly my auntie, Mak Ndak. Then I spoke a little, sharing my feeling of happiness to be here, my desire for a better future, about my hopes and dreams. I even spoke of my regrets and sadness. I complained about my weariness of spirit and body. I think I may have drifted to sleep, because next thing I remember was a gentle nudge from the Shrine's custodian. Everyone else have left the surau. I gathered up my cane and bag, said goodbye to whoever was listening and walked out again into the cold desert air. Outside I met, Arjuna and Saiful. They smiled at me, and then took the picture of me below. It was lovely. And yes, as I mentioned earlier, there were pigeons here too.

It was a lovely visit, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Auntie Nab, Rabia & Salman in Jerusalem - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 7

(If unclear, please click on picture)

Rabi'ah al-'Adawiyah. She is a saint. Perhaps the most well known and revered of woman saints in the lore of the wise masters and their foolish students.

Auntie Nab. I have heard of her of course. A couple of years back after my mother passed away, I spent time with an old, old friend of my mother, Auntie Nab. She is an integral part of my life because she was the ‘matchmaker’ between my mom and dad. I guess you could say that without Auntie Nab’s timely intervention, I may have never been born.

Auntie Nab is a reader and admirer of Rabia. Women are often fond of Rabia because she always has something to say about man and our weaknesses – exposing our little petty vanities for the world to take lesson (and often giggle at). Like this story…

Hasan and Rabia. One day, Hasan al-Basri (ancient big-time saint and contemporary of Rabia) made a point to visit Rabia. But he did not take the bus, neither did he walk, ride a camel or any of the many mundane ways of transport available to him in those days. Hassan flew. Saints get to do this magical stuffs once in a while. Rabia was outdoor when Hassan came swooping down like an angel from heaven. And as he was descending, Rabia called unto him, saying, “O’ Hasan, even birds can fly!”

Jerusalem. Such is Rabia that she even has things (many, many, many things, in fact) to say to God Himself. I hope I shall be visiting her soon. Her maqam (tomb) is near Jerusalem (or maybe in Jerusalem?), and it is part of the itinerary of the tour for Tuesday. Am I excited? I am, but being it is Rabia herself, I am approaching her with deference (and not a little caution). It is always a good idea for men to be circumspect and careful when dealing with women, especially women saints.

Salman al-Farsi. On the same day we shall also be visiting the maqam of Salman al-Farsi, a great and beloved Companion of the Prophet. My hands trembled when I read the itinerary because I know him. He is a wonderful human being… a true Lover of the Beloved of God.

Have a lovely Monday, sunshine. Today, I am a traveler.

Pax Taufiqa.

.

A deeply PERSONAL thinGY stuffs...

Love puts bread on the table,
Love puts the roof over our heads,
Love is the cure to all
Our sorrows and
Heartaches.

Love is perfect,
But we are imperfect,
So we become torn,
Pulled left to right,
Front and back.

Yet,
If man were perfect,
What need would he
Have for love from
Anyone at all?

Imperfection is
The Lord's gift
That compels us
To seek Him...,

That compels us
To seek Each other.

So do not despair,
And say not unto me,
That our Lord
Does not
Care.

And ask not of God,
That HE be contented
With us,
When we are not
Contented with Him...

Oh my Love,...
By my words
I am undone.

Forgive Me.
...........................................................
From current and untitled chapter
...........................................................

This is really my first ever 'live' posting. The verse, as in most truths, is related to me in hindsight, from a series of sms-es. The contentment with God portion is however an earlier conversation between the saintly Rabi'ah al-'Adawiyah and Sufyan al-Thawri. It is an old, old tale, but the morale appears to fit in here nicely. Don't you agree?

The truth is, when I speak of love, I shame the word, as I am unworthy. But God has given me eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to feel and hands to write with. And I guess I am meant to share it with you, my pretties. May God, Who has given me all these though I am unworthy, grace your days and nights in sweet solace. For I know that you at least, you are worthy!

Salams.