LOVE ON STEROIDS - the non-linear nature of time in the kingdom of love

Who is Remembering Who?

If I had you near me now,

I would press my head

To your bosom,

I would stop thinking,

Stop worrying,

I would simply take in

With each soulful breath,

Your scent, your warmth,

And those words of assurance

That long have I waited to hear,

"Do not worry, I will always be here,

Just recall me and I will be near,

In fact, I would be there even before

Your first murmurs of melancholy for me

Strikes your despairing soul,

You must realise...

You are remembering me 

Because I am first

To remember

You."

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

Here, time is linear. When we are talking about our dearly departed who has passed on, we need to stop thinking in the normal way. For we are living in the material world that is linear - time moves on, we are born, we grow old then we die. 

Here, time ceases to be linear. But when we recall our beautiful mothers, our excellent fathers, our friends and kin who have all left us, we are trespassing into the spiritual world, though there is still breath in our bodies. And time is not linear at all here. It goes forward and backwards, it bounces about like a beach ball. It is like undisciplined electrons, whirling and turning according to our wilful purpose. 

You are dead. Don't you have anything better to do? So you see, I am thinking of my mother now, simply because she is thinking of me first. And I would say the same for my late brother, and all my many aunties and uncles, friends and cousins. So now you may be wondering about your late mum/dad/sis/bff - "You are all thinking of me, remembering me... surely there is something more beneficial for you to do in the Hereafter..."

Death is Love on Steroids. Well, the truth is simple and undeniable (well...  you can deny it if you want to be a spoilsport / a partypooper, he he he). The doorway of death does not extinguish love. Actually it augments love. It is love on steroids. And this world, this material world is literally pulsating with the hidden lines that love is drawing across our lives - making our days and nights better, richer and more meaningful.

Such things you may find in thinking of your God and your Prophet (saws). Whether you are contemplating alone or in the presence of your betters. For when it comes to love's power and the truth it represents... is there any comparison to Allah (swt) and His Love for Muhammad Habibullah (saws)?

So, if there is a soul you are longing to meet again, to hear from... he/she is there in the Divine Presence, waiting for you. And his/her longing for you precedes your longing for him/her. 

Love on Steroids. Like I said.

He he he.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

-Notrumi Embun, 17th June 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love all show the Way 

THE ROSE, THE SOUL & THE WINDOW - Of death the beautiful door and love true and eternal...

The Rose, The Soul & the Window

The most beautiful rose

You may find in the cemetery,

Blooming in between the headstones

And loving engravings,

In between the worshipful epithet 

And a weeping widow, there

You may find a soul

And its window.

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

I have changed, I think. The idea of dying, that mortal door through which all men must pass, is a constant thought that rides through my mind like a merry-go-round. I guess it comes with middle age. He he he.

20th May 2002. It should be no wonder too, when the woman who gave birth to me has only just passed the 12th anniversary of her passing. Shedding her mortal skin to wear who-knows-what now... Indeed, Hu (He, meaning God) would know, I guess. He he he. I pray for her eternal peace and happiness, I do. Though I know I am not worthy to kiss her feet.  

30th March 2012. Then, some year later, my Shaykh Raja Ashman was released from his worldly burden, to go to a place where, according to his master, Mawlana Shaykh Nazim, he would bear witness upon real power! I wonder what that meant. Real power. But I am not too worried, for He who wields that power is the Source of all Power, a.k.a. God Almighty Himself. And He loves us, He does... 

God loves us with a longing you cannot know, 

More than you will love any child you bear, 

More than you will love any maiden you marry, 

More than you will ever love even the person

That you call "Me".

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

14th September 2013. Then last year, my elder brother, Saiful Bahri (known as Poone to his kin and friends) also returned to God and His Prophet. It was a surprising death (well, not really, in hindsight), but it was also good for him, looking in death far more beautiful to me (and many of our family and friends) than he was ever alive. It was as if upon death, God the Most Merciful, pulled the veil that hid my brother's true soul, that we might speculate a little upon his love, friendship and generosity. What a trick to pull at the end of his life! I will never forgive him for that. He he he.

7th May 2014. Finally, and most recently, our beloved Mawlana Shaykh Nazim of Lefke, Cyprus departed from this reality for the infinitely greater reality. Not to say that his attachment for this world was ever like us ordinary sinners. Drawn to Nabi Muhammad (saws), beloved to the saints and Companions of the Prophet, like a moth to a candle, he was ever whirling and living with love and mercy, carrying a heavy weight of servanthood. As my good buddy, Munim says... " I will not last a single day of Mawlana's life!". So now Mawlana himself is bearing witness to the real power! 

Well, we may only speculate what these phrases mean when spoken by our betters. But we can hope to be reunited with all of them in the pacific solace of God's Divine Presence. After all, why bother praying if you do not ask God for the best that He can give you?

He he he.

And for myself? My death? Will anyone blog about me?

And when I am dead and buried? 

Who will care for my passing? 

And who will bother to write about me? 

But I am not worried. 

I intend to write my own epithet in your heart, sunshine. 

Just remember me, and I will be there,

Busily scribbling!

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

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Notrumi Embun, 24th May 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

SCOUT JAMBOREE LITE - fathers and mothers, sons and daughters...

Mikhail and his tent mates...

Jamboree Lite. Last weekend Mikhail went on what I might define as a scout jamboree 'lite'. From what I could reckon, there was no hikes, no campfires or anything too arduous for these primary school kids. I am not complaining, as like Mika, many of the children were just 10 years old, and possibly their first night ever under a tent. A tent, in a school field in Taman Tun Dr. Ismail, a prosperous suburban neighbourhood not far from my own neighbourhood. In fact, the school field is just across the road from a restaurant that I often go for dinner. So I wasn't too worried. He he he.

Mikhail and his huge orange suitcase. Just what you need for a camping adventure.
I can assure you that Mika's luggage was the biggest at the jamboree.
I saw some other scouts arriving carrying only their every day school bag and a humble plastic bag. 

Delinquent Parents. In the three days and two nights the scouts were at the "camping site", hilarious and almost unbelievable stories started to turn up on the school moms Whatsapp group. There were some parents who continued hanging around in the school compound way after the scout program officially started. Other parents trotted off to the (conveniently nearby) shops to buy additional food and drinks for their kids, whom they fear would possibly starve or become severely malnourished during the weekend. But perhaps, the most amazing story involved a parent who was seen to actually helping his/her son to shower and change. I put the words 'his/her' to be polite, but I bet it was the mum. He he he.

Finally, unable to stand the interfering parents any longer, the scouts' working committee from Mikhail's school issued a warning to all parents to stay away from the school and camping ground until they are suppose to pick their kids up on Sunday afternoon. If any parent is spotted in the school compound, the committee warned, their child will be asked to immediately leave the program.

I don't blame the committee, because, after all, Mika's school is only one of 5 (I think) schools that sent their scouts for the weekend camping program. I think most of the delinquent parents were from Mika's school. Oh the shame of it all... 

He he he.  

Exhausted but exhilarated. I can still recall such childhood feelings.

But most importantly, despite the attempts by mum and/or dad to totally sabotage the scout camping weekend, I think it went well. When I picked up Mikhail, he was tired and hungry, yet I could see he was also exhilarated by the experience. "I really enjoyed sleeping in a tent, Papa.", he said. "We slept at one in the morning and got up at five!", he added. "I liked the chicken rendang (a very rich coconut based chicken dish... so much for the threat of starvation) that we ate!" And happily, Mika is keen to go for more camping, perhaps next time, at a proper camp site somewhere in the forest. And I bet for that one, the parents won't be furtively keeping watch in the bushes nearby. 

But then again... you never know what mums can get up to when they think their offspring are at risk! 

God bless the patient teachers and scout masters, and God bless all crazy parents.

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

MH370, a Postscript -We all know the news surrounding the tragic event of Flight MH370. May all friends and kin of the missing passengers and crew of that plane, find the courage to persevere with hope and faith as they pick up the shattered pieces of their lives. And for the rest of us, we who mourn with them in this difficult times, we can only pray to understand the lessons from this incident, that it may make us a better human being, and a better Christian, Buddhist, Jew, Hindu, Muslim, Atheists or Agnostics. 

Because, after all... whatever the nature of your belief or disbelief, we are all still part of one humanity.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

A FATHER'S MEMOIR - the shy doctor

A Memoir. My father is writing his memoir. After the unexpected passing of my brother, Abang Chik (a.k.a. Poone) last September, my dad turned rather quiet and sober. And this is for someone naturally quiet and sober. Talking about this with Mr. Ikhlas, my old friend suggested that this would be a good time for my dad to finally complete his memoir in time for his 80th birthday this coming March 2014. At the very least it would be a project to distract him from the painful memory of having buried his second son. So I mentioned this to my father, and since then there is no stopping him. He is now giving the finishing touches to his latest draft which he typed with an old manual Olympia typewriter. He is also sorting out some grand old pictures to be part of the memoir. 

A Typist. His draft needs to be keyed into the computer for editing, and originally I planned to get a typist to do it. But after glancing briefly, there is much I discovered in his recollections that I didn't know about his life... and I am keen to find out more. So I have volunteered my typing skills. Though it must have pleased him, since then my father has been strangely reluctant to part with his manuscript for me to type. Every other day, I keep nagging him for it, and each time he said it is not ready yet.

Is the doctor shy? I think he is just contented to have something cerebral to fill his days.

A Fathers' Poem. Some years back, I wrote something for my dad on Fathers' Day. It is a little late in the day to share it with you, but here it is...

5. Now That I am a Father

Now that I am a father,

Worrying becomes second nature,

As I look at my son and wonder,

How will he fare when

I am here no longer?

Now that I am a father,

I can share my father’s joy and sorrow

And his firmness that grated people so,

By taking the high road,

When easier seemed the low.

Now that I myself am a father,

I think, finally…

I know mine a little better.

And on this day,

Which celebrates fathers everywhere,

I have my own to share with you,

Abdul Khalid, my dad,

From the tips of his toes

To the ends of his white hair!

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

Have a lovely day, sunshine. Don't forget to tell your father and mother that you love them so. No matter that your love for them will never equal their love and sacrifice... and I think we certainly don't need a parent's memoir to realise this God-beautiful truth.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE PAST, THE TUNA SANDWICH AND THE ORANGE

The Past

Do not look to the past,

And do not ask,

Could I have said this instead?

Could I have done something else?

Why did I not simply wait?

Could I have spared that dime?

Could I have made amends,

And said I am sorry a thousand times?

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

Perhaps this would be what my late brother would tell me now. And I think I must agree with him. I am not interested to live through the past regrets and wasted opportunities of my life (I am too lazy). But I think we can change the past by learning to apply it in the present. Let me explain...

Oranges. Yesterday, while having an after dinner cigarette with my dad (who is turning 80 next year), he passed me a plate of sliced oranges. "This is good..." He said. I balked, because I actually stole a slice earlier from the fridge, and oh boy, was it sour. But then I recall the last conversation I had with Abang Chik (whom you call Poone). He was asking me (for a second time) to eat the tuna sandwich that he bought earlier that afternoon. And for a second time I said no - first I declined because I just had lunch, and I said no for the second and last time because we were already going out to dinner. A dinner which we were all destined not to have when arwah Poone suddenly passed away just as we were about to leave our house on that rainy evening on 14th September. 

"So what if this is the last orange that my father might offer me?" The thought crossed my mind. After all, if Poone could go so suddenly, why not me, and why not my dad. "Perhaps this would be the last dinner we shall ever have together in this life?". Oh boy, the drama, the weighty issues at hand.

So yes. I had that orange. A couple of slices actually.

And yes. It was still damn sour.

Hehehe.

Appreciate every second of your life, sunshine. And every second of your kin and friends' time here. It will not last forever. Don't be like me and take everything for granted.

A Caveat about the Sinners' Almanac - Just a short reminder before I leave you... You know, I often share stories about my life here. And some of them appear to make me out to be a decent sort of fella. I am not sure I am. For just like the man who posts on his Facebook wall, pictures of him going to the gym, you must ask yourself about the number of times that he hasn't actually gone to the gym (he he he). He is not going to post pictures of him lazing on the sofa in front of the TV. I think I am like that man.

But you know... I am trying.

Have a lovely sabbath.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BURYING MY FRUSTRATION - Saiful Bahri (1964 - 2013) Part 1

In Jordan (May 2012), with a guitar on his lap, a cigarette in his mouth and
surrounded by friends. My brother knew how to enjoy himself!

BURYING MY FRUSTRATION (Saiful Bahri 1)

Yesterday I buried my frustration,

I buried him beneath an overcast sky,

In the company of a congregation I buried him,

Buried him I did, with no need to ask why,

For I have been wondering of late,

How my brother will fare if I am not there,

So God has saved me such fate,

Taking my brother home instead, 

And sparing me 

The worry...

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

Frustrating. My brother, Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid is a brother and such a bother to me. I guess I inherited the frustration from my dearly departed mother, who knew, instinctively, that Abang Chik (for that is how I call him) is the brightest, kindest and most creative of her three boys. But right up to her death in 2002, Abang Chik do not fulfill the conventional expectations rendered unto him, by the God-given gifts that was his blessing, and also responsibility. 

For my dear brother was not a conventional fellow at all. And neither did he try to be. Very early on in his life, he figured his path already. A path that would place him in a position to be teased (by the gentle-minded) and ridiculed (by the rude). He lacked worldly ambitions, you see. Despite all his talents and sense of empathy.

But now I know.

Though I did bury my frustrations yesterday, among a crowd of teary friends and family. By God... I swear to you now, that I also buried something else there too... my inspiration.

And I bet he was enjoying this too. Me bending over awkwardly to kiss his forehead.

He was Saiful Bahri. I call him Abang Chik. To his friends and Family, he was known as Poone.

Old Story. I once wrote about Abang Chik in May 2012, when he was away in Jordan (Click Here to My Brother, Horseback Archery and the Caliph of Islam). In the short posting you may understand why, despite appearances to the contrary, my brother was a singular force of all that is good and beautiful in my life.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way  

From the Transient Artifice to the Prose of God: True Love - of life, death, grandparents and the divine nexus of Allah (s.w.t.) and His Muhammad (s.a.w.s.)

Jasad & Pertemuan

Jasad bersemadi didalam bumi, 

Namun jasa baktimu kekal di hati, 

Pemergianmu bagaikan baru sehari, 

Seorang ibu, seorang isteri, 

Kita menanti pertemuan 

Yang diberkati Ilahi...

Your body is resting in the earth,

But your charity and deeds live on in the heart,

Your passing seems only like yesterday,

A mother, a wife,

We await a meeting

Blessed by God.

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

A Grandma He Never Met. Over the Eid festivities, myself and Mikhail visited the graves of our kin. And the nearest cemetery is one near my house, where resides the final resting place (in this mortal plane) of my mother, Arbayah binti Haji Hashim. Mika, who always enjoys our visit to the garden of stones, told me that we must visit his grandmother's grave more often. He is right, of course. The funny thing is my mum passed away in May 2002, almost 2 years before he was born, so he has never in fact actually met his grandmother. But Mika is fortunate that my father is still alive, and so is his grandmother on his mother's side. So in a way he kinda has the full grandparent team, something which I myself missed. 

The Home that Arbayah and Khalid Built. But just as how my mum and dad related to me stories of my grandparents whom I never met, so I too often regal my son with tales and escapades of my mother. I keep telling him how generous she was, with so many friends, both in the family and outside (For you should not take for granted that your kin is necessarily your friend... for like all friendships, it takes effort, love and much caring). I would tell Mika of his grandmother's quiet travels into the hinterlands, donating and doing charitable works, whether as part of some women's organization or really just on her own and only with a couple of close friends. I also shared with Mika how my mother made my house a home, with rich abundance and a refuge for anyone who would care to come by for an understanding heart and a ready ear to listen. And boy, did we have a lot of visitors, almost every day of the year...

Mika and His Tok. One night last year, I was sitting with Mikhail outside my father's room, when my father passed by and entered his room. Mika suddenly whispered to me, "Papa, I think Tok Wan (he calls my dad that) must be sad. He must miss Tok (my mum) a lot." I replied, "But why are you talking so softly?" And he answered, "Because I am sure Tok Wan would feel more sad if he heard us talking about Tok and him."

On the second day of Eid, while we were arranging red roses (dammit, those roses are really full of thorns) for his grandmother's grave, Mika said, "You know, Papa... I hope to meet Tok in heaven." I glanced up from my bleeding fingers as he continued, somewhat more circumspectly... "Well, I hope I get to heaven!"

Connection with the Hereafter. This connection with someone who predeceased you before you were even born is not merely the habit of a deranged man (a.k.a. yours truly), it is, I guess, a seminal pillar of faith in Islam (including Judaism and Christianity), since the passing of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) as the Seal and Last of the Prophets. And just as a poor old Papa is trying to keep the sweet memory of his mother alive for his own son, so does the living Saints, both hidden and open, continue to maintain the golden connection between us doddering sinners and believers, with the prophetic presence of Muhammad Habibullah (s.a.w.s.), his blessed family, the Companions and the Saints.

122. Not Dead

Oh, my Mighty King!

I have not left my flock unattended,

I have not left any fences unmended,

I have left stars that any, if lost, may follow home.

But a cold wind is blowing,

Carrying my memories far away,

Blackness is creeping in,

And though they know how to pray,

They have left my way.

Save for my heirs and heralds,

The fulcrum of this Age,

Still toiling in their mortal cage,

Long-bearded, the white, the black and the grey,

In their hearts, evil holds no sway,

In their hearts, Your Name resonates,

In their hearts, I still live,

Not dead.         

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

Connection from the Transient Artifice to the Eternal Real. And based on authoritative sources, I am told that this connection is more powerful than the fastest internet connection known to Man, and more real than you, me and the entire world combined. For in the eyes of Allah (s.w.t.), nothing comes first before His Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), and nothing comes through without the Prophet's (s.a.w.s.) intercessions. This quintillion terrabyte connection is working around the clock, over the clock, up and under the clock, 24/7 365 days a year. All for the Prophet's love and mercy for not just the Muslims, but for all humanity, all creatures, all sentient and non-sentient inhabitants of the worlds. Phew!

The Divine Nexus. In this context, the story of my mother and my immediate family appears to be such a small and insignificant thing. But I know this is not true. Not for me, not for you and your family. For the love exemplified and promised to us comes from the spark of divine nexus between God Almighty and the Prophet (s.a.w.s.). And truth be told, beyond this is more than even my most love-sick conjecture of Divine Love can spell out for you... 

A glittering remnants of a super nova in outer space as caught by the
Hubble space telescope. God's Love is even more beautiful,
more audacious, and more real.

So have a happy one, sunshine. And I leave you with this afterthought - I am defeated in trying to describe the Love Divine and the Divinely Loved. I cannot win in this battle. But I am happy to be continually defeated by every dot, comma, word and phrase that I write by God's own Prose... For love, True Love... which is the Prose of God cannot be explained, it can only be experienced.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Making the Prose of Rumi more Beautiful and the Discourses of Geylani more Meaningful - honest toil and the virtues of household chores

Prose does not put food on the table, the kitchen stocked
nor the pathways and bathrooms clean...
For that we need the honest toil of workers and domesticity
of the home-makers. Blessed be the Prose of God in action!

(Prologue: This write-up is inspired by the exhaustion of the sinner after only two days' prep and household chores for yesterday's Eid open house. I plonked dead on my bed at 10pm, waking up 12 hours later...)

Kids... Mikhail and Imran.
You want them not to make the mistakes
you have made, and the easiest way is for you
to nag them. But the best way is by example.
You know it, I know it and
they know it too! (dammit)

Secrets. So what? There are secrets, and there are secrets of secrets. On the spiritual path, you will be pleased to know that many veils of such secrets are lifted,... and hey! Kudos to you because you now know! But so what?

For what is the point of knowledge if it is not manifested in your every day life? And as a registered sinner, I am the first to admit that this is not easy. But there are some very basic things which is important and we must at least try to do.

Self Improvement. The path (tarikat) does not enjoin the seekers to give up on the world, for there is much to do and improve, if we would only realise this. And of course it all begins with our own selves, first and last. For the journey to improving our habits and life style does not end until we exhale our last. So for acolytes of the mystic ways to espouse great transcendental knowledge about God and humanity, about the ordering and corruption of society... they must ask first what they are doing (or trying to do) to remedy their own faults - Their own personal health and eating habits. Their own exercise and concern for the household and their neighbours. After all, if nothing is attempted, nothing is gained. 

With Knowledge comes Responsibility. But for those blessed with secret knowledge, the responsibility is heavier. For as Imam Shafi'e said - Knowledge without practice is arrogance. In other words, you are principled in words and thoughts, but unprincipled in actions. This is not a good place to be in. In fact, it would be better to know less or nothing at all.

Honest Living. If you toil every day for an honest living, you gain money and wealth. With that prosperity, you can share it with your family and friends, your neighbours and needful charities, and there are a great number of people needing help out there. If you do not work, what are you contributing to the world? Whether you are trading, working for people, there is always room to work. 

Mikhail is a grandson of a great and efficient home-maker.
Though he never got the opportunity to meet my mum,
I hope to instill a little of my mum's domesticity in him.
(And in my own lazy self, come to think of it.)

The Prose of Rumi, the Discourses of Geylani. Even if you have no job whatsoever, you can at least be helpful about the house. For me, fixing the toilet, changing the light bulbs, sweeping the garden and throwing away the rubbish properly, are all a necessary and distinguished part of life. For it makes life for ourselves and everyone around us better. Menial though these chores may be, but the truth is they make the prose of Rumi and the discourses of Geylani even more beautiful, poignant and moving. Otherwise, are we not merely pandering to our spiritual ego?

Household Chores. Such things must be taught when young. And we must take the effort and be patient with our children. Otherwise, they will grow up dismissive of domestic chores, giving little credit to the little wives, mothers and sisters without whom a house can turn into a dung heap really, really fast.

So God bless all house-makers, and may we always be reminded to help them in their virtuous work!

Oh, and thank you to all who came yesterday. Most of all, I did the open house in loving memory of my late mother, Arbayah binti Haji Hashim, who made us a loving and generous home. May Allah (s.w.t.) bless her in the company of His friends.

My late-mum, the efficient home-maker. She only rested when she died.
But I wonder if she is now just as efficient in the Hereafter as she was here,
...watering the roses and weeding the Eternal Garden of the eternal weeds. He he he
al fatiha

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

PLEASE MAMA, JUST LET ME LOOK AT YOU - The Ramadan Story, Part 5

Keeping Company

May I please sit here with you?

May I please talk to you?

May I please have your unfailing attention?

May I please have your love,

Your mercy and compassion?

May I please have your ear,

And share with you all my joy and pain?

May I please have your time,

In this brief pause between the rain?

In this quiet solitude of the night,

So dark and still without the moonlight, 

While everyone else is asleep,

May I have your company to keep?

Perhaps I don't make friends easy,

Perhaps I am not very companionable, 

So, God please...

While others have given up on me

Please say that you will stay.

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

The Mirror of Truth. I hope nobody is taking the poem above negatively. Sometimes, I reckon that we have given up on ourselves. "Ugh!" We would cringe when we contemplate ourselves in front of the mirror. Know that you are looking at a lie when you think yourself ugly or a failure. If you could see yourself with the Gaze of Love upon the Mirror of Truth, verily you would prostrate before the reflection. And what exactly is the reflection that you would see then? I am not sure. But if it would impel me to prostrate, it must be quite a sight... masyaAllah.

Remembering Mother. My mum, may God bless her soul, was very companionable. Day and night our house used to be filled with visitors. I miss those hectic busy days now, and would give anything to see her once again. I don't care anymore about her cooking or anything like that at all. What I would tell her right now if I could is, "Please, just sit there and let me look at you..."

A Beautiful Birth. Ten thousand years ago, you and I were not born yet. But all that has happened then, and all that has occurred even further back than that, has led to your birth. Perhaps like me, you have made many mistakes and misused your time here in this world. But nothing that you have done since can unmake you and your beautiful birth. InsyaAllah (God willing), tomorrow is another day to prove this. Surely God the Loving One would not have gone to all this trouble to make Creation and you to humiliate, embarrass or oppress you? How can He when He has forbidden any acts of oppression or unfairness upon His Godly Self? In a Hadith (verbal tradition of the Prophet s.a.w.s.), God assured and commanded us, "O' My servants, I have forbidden oppression for Myself and have made it forbidden amongst you, so do not oppress one another."  

Forgetting to ask God something. I am troubled by an ear infection, which often causes stabs of pain around my ear and my temple. I am sad that this comes with the arrival of Ramadan, but an ancient friend dropped by last evening and said, "You should take this opportunity to plead for all sorts of things from God now instead of simply complaining. Don't you know that God is most attentive to those with illness and in pain?!" I followed his advice and every time I feel that someone is drilling into my head, I would ask something from God. The only problem is I keep forgetting to ask Him to cure me and stop the pain. He he he. 

But then again, if you have such an intimate moment with our Loving Creator, would you ask Him to stop? 

Something to reflect on, sunshine. Have a wonderful day tomorrow.

Sometimes Love, like life, can appear to be a little hard,
But there is no need for all that drama, you know...
Just say BismillahiRahmaniRahim and enter.
(In the name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful)

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

THE SAD SUFI CLOWN - The Ramadan Story, Part 2

Action-Figure. Not a Doll. My partner, Alex, is a collector of dolls. Oops, sorry, my bad, I mean action-figures. And in the pursuit of this hobby he has spent thousands for Iron Man, the Joker, Batman, the Predator and other assortment of American and Manga characters. On a smaller scale, he also buys small mini-Lego figures for his four-year old son. The only problem is you don't actually know what you would get when you buy a Lego packet, because the packet is not transparent. So what the 40-year old property and banking lawyer would do is spend some time standing in front of the Toys'r'Us counter, softly massaging the packaging to try and guess what figurine is inside. "Wait.. wait!" Alex would breathe excitedly, "I think I can feel the trident / sword / roman helmet!" Yes. Yes. This is the sort of lawyers working with me. Awesome.

Sad Clown. Anyways, perusing the current catalog (Lego comes out with different series of mini-figures), I found one which caught my fancy - a sad-clown figurine with a pointy hat. I have a thing for pointy-hats. The wizards in the Lord of the Ring wears them, and the Shaykhs of the Naqshbandi Sufi Order wears them. So I challenged Alex if he could find me the clown. And last Monday, he didn't fail me and triumphantly brought a small mini-Lego package for me to open. And God bless his heart, for it was indeed the sad-clown!

Clownish Obsession. I have always been fond of clowns, and have sketched a couple in the past for this almanac. I guess I have empathy for the vocation of clownship, for in my life I have often found my face splattered by custard pie, feeling both foolish and embarrassed. And just like my own clown, the Lego clown also has a tear running down his face.

Coincidence? I think not. After all, it is Ramadan! 

Alhamdulillah. Is there any seriousity at all in this meandering story about clowns and Lego? He he he. I am not sure really. Perhaps I am writing this because I never expected anyone to give me, a crusty, life-worn 42-year old man, a Lego toy. Me and Alex joked about it later. And our conclusion is that we are fortunate to be one of those who can be made happy by the simple, whimsical things in life. Like a little toy figurine. Like afternoon rain... Like a smile playing on our children's faces. Like the assuring handshake between two friends. Alhamdulillah (Praise unto God!).

183. The Little Things

If I am not your distraction,

Shall I ever be your devotion?

If you do not remember Me in the little things,

Will any miracle persuade you into believing?

Something to think about on this second day of Ramadan, sunshine, in a month when I reckon that goodness and mercy are like little divine dominoes simply waiting to fall into your life. Like rain... like falling in love... like a life as how Allah (s.w.t.) and His Habibullah (s.a.w.s.) would like you to live yours - A life lit with adab (good manners) and ilm (knowledge). Don't you agree?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BIG FAT CLOUDS - clouds, kittens and a 9-years old son seeking a restraining order against his mother

Distant Thunder
I hear the rumbling of a distant thunder,
Light is veiled behind a plume of cloud,
But rain is come
The seeker is now the sought
The lover is now the loved
Woe that I was ever in doubt!

Big Fat Clouds... this is the skyscape that was sorely missed by me and my
countrymen during the choking, bitter hazy days a couple of weeks ago when some
parts of Malaysia hit 400 on the API (Air Pollution Index). Back then we saw no
clouds, in fact not even the Sun, as a blanket of smoke blocked our view of the sky...
I felt like the haze descended on my very spirit and felt physically and
spiritually lethargic.

I guess telecommunication towers are a necessary evil in a developing country like
mine, but it does make one hill look the same as the next. 

The clouds drifted so close to the Hermitage in the Sky that I felt like I could
simply lean over the balcony and touch the wispy white water particles. 

I was bewitched by the evening clouds, and I thought I have never seen anything quite as lovely and reassuring as they floated near and around me. The haze and smog was a memory and perhaps a lesson that we ought not to take nature and its manifest beauty for granted. I reckon that is what God wants to remind us of. Don't you?

Before I left from the office, I detoured at the coffee shop beneath my
office. And there was a kitten, wandering around looking about in the
curious way that kittens do. It climbed on my lap and gazed at my face
with that pleading hungry cat's eyes.

Where is the mommy? That is what I would like to know... And I think
it is also asking the same question... "Have you seen my mommy?"

I am actually writing this at the very same coffee shop. But I haven't seen the kitten since that day, I hope it is alright... though doubt shadows my heart. Kittens have such a high mortality rate. *Sigh*

Mikhail (my 9 year old son): Papa... I can't stand doing revision with Mummy!
Me: Why is that? Mikhail: It is worse than school!! She would tell me to read this, do that... and
then she would go to sleep, or watch TV or play on her iPad! 

Mikhail: Do you think I can get a Restraining Order

against Mummy on the Internet?

Me: Hmm... you can try.

I don't know where Mika learned about Restraining Orders! But he has the mechanics of the judicial order correct and said that he wanted to restrain his mother from coming within 100 metres of him.

Setting Sun on the Hermitage. The low clouds have mostly marched
eastwards, and in the distance I could hear thunder. 

Have a pleasant Friday, sunshine. And if you are where the air is fresh and clean, count your blessings with each breath... Allah... Allah... Allah... 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way