I do not understand... but I understand love

I Do Not Understand, But I Understand Love

I do not understand the world sometimes,

Because the language most natural to me is love,

I do not understand the news sometimes,

Because the only news I know is love,

I do not understand people's anger and hate sometimes,

Because the only emotion I understand is love,

And by God, because of this

I sometimes do not even understand myself

And the angry and despairing creature

Standing in the mirror in front of me.

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

I am leaving for Singapore again today. But I would have no problem speaking there because almost all Singaporeans can speak English. And of course there are also Malays there who can speak Malay, although some of them tend to speak in a lingo or dialect a little strange to us Malaysian Malays. A little bit 1970s era kinda lingo. He he he.

But Chinese or Malay or English, everyone can speak the Language of Love. It is manifest in our attitude and character, our patience and fortitude, our mercy and compassion. As a sinner, I fear that despite my 42 years of life, I am still in the Kindergarten of Love, and it is unsafe to leave me to my own ego and its cunning devices - often I caught myself speaking and thinking in another language. The language of the ego. I pray always to God to guide me, and to take me closer to His anointed Master of the Language of Love, our  own benevolent and loving Muhammad (s.a.w.s.).

Geo-politics and the geo-politicians of this world like to paint the world of despair and confusion. But that is simply because they are painting their global perception with the ego. I often do this and hope to lessen my addiction to this most foul of habits.

So pray for me always, sunshine. And I shall pray for you.

Let us endeavour to always converse in the Language of Love.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Speak to Him... awake or in your nightly dream...

Break the Silence

Talk to Him,

Talk to Him However Way You Want to...

Through your Prayer,

Through Your huMan Tears and holy Hymn,

Break THe siLence,

And talk to HiM...

eVEN in your nightly Dreams...

For though your lips stay stubbornly silent,

Your Soul may yet find its ReAl appearance, 

And while you fall asleep like a Heathen

Your DreaM takes its path to Heaven.

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

Life is about conversations about God and with God. And it is meant to be a two-way communications. A dialogue. And even if we are naughty and negligent in our prayers, does God turn away? Is our connection to Him severed?

So long as there is a single breath animating us, there is a link. For God is unlike us, whimsical and often arbitrary in our actions. "I am closer to you than your jugular vein", God expresses Himself clearly in the Holy Quran. Therefore, the only question is whether you are up to the task of accessing and filtering the information downloaded from the Divine Presence on a daily, second by microsecond basis. 

And this happens even in our sleep, as our spirit partially (and temporarily) relinquishes its worldly passport to find some divine sustenance from the Fountain of Knowledge. For this world is indeed a mere journey from our real home in the beautiful meadows of God's Divine Presence. And one day (and may such a day be blessed!), our worldly passport shall indeed expire and we will be invited home to the  place of honour as a weak servant in the Heavenly Court of God - Creator and Lord of all mankind.

This is something the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) teaches his followers. This is not just a journey for the Muslims, this is a journey fated for all humanity. So let us be nice to everyone sharing our travel!

Uh oh... and lest I forget, here is wishing all my Hindu brothers and sisters a wonderful Deepavali!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in  Islam

Love will show the Way

The Lexicon of Love and the Journey in the Meaning of Words - I met a nun once...

Life is...

A Journey in the meaning of words.

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

The Power of Words. Thus was a prose recorded a couple of years back. It is a simple idea with both beautiful and terrible consequences. People have been saved by words, inspired to do good by words, to help his fellowmen, to preserve the environment and treat all of creation with the respect and love that it deserves. On the other hand, words have led to assaults, murders, thievery, rape and bloody wars ranged between mighty nations on earth. So it is important to have a clear idea as to the meaning of words. For they can bring you both goodness and evil.

Happy meaning. I am happy when I come across happy souls who can teach me the meaning of words. Because contented people have an outlook towards life that glimmers with the light of love. They may be not-well-to-do, living in an desolate ghetto, or they may be staying in a suburban paradise, but their optimistic, never-say-die attitude enlivens the very words that they use. The word 'God' becomes this mind-bendingly awesome Divine Personality of incredible Wisdom, Mercy and Compassion. And for Muslims, the word 'Love' and 'Muhammad'(pbuh) becomes this wonderful avenue through which God approaches mankind, and by which we are called to approach His Divine Presence.

We are all heretics. In a 2010 posting, Katherine, who writes the Nun Tuck's Almanac wrote an interesting piece entitled 'TEN RELIGIOUS WORDS THAT THE SPINDOCTORS DOCTORED.' She is a Christian and I often found her writing admirable and worthy of praise. Here is one of the ten words...

"9. HERETIC- The Roman Catholic church has, over the centuries, given this word a new definition. Its current definition means those who hold unorthodox or controversial beliefs or opinions which differ from that of the official dogma of the Roman Catholic Church. However, in its original form, the word, from its Greek roots “hairetikos” to its Latin and early English and French derivations, simply means ”able to choose”. SO, A HERETIC, IS ONE WHO IS ABLE TO CHOOSE WHAT HE OR SHE BELIEVES. A wonderfully democratic term turned slander."

.............. (Click Here to go to the blog post)

If we were to apply the original meaning of 'heretic' I guess we can then say that all of mankind (and Djinn) are therefore heretics. For that is the distinctive nature that God has imbued into Adam and Eve... the ability to choose - To elect whether to do good or bad. A power (for it is a power, actually) and a trust that no one and nothing else in creation were willing to accept. This was the divine offer and promise transacted between God and each soul in the Day of Promises.

When it comes to religion and spirituality, the wise always says that it is the inside that counts, not the form or appearance. I think if we can practice and nurture this simple ideal, there is no challenge we cannot face down even in this often troubled and divisive times. Together, you and I, sunshine, we can continue this journey in the meaning of words, and complete our Lexicon of Love.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Two Languages and Two Personalities - trashing out a new blog and the startling discovery of another personality...

It's you! It's no one else. He just sounds a little different, that's all...

I have been busy this weekend, sunshine. I am trying to concoct a blog in my native Bahasa Melayu (Malay) language. It is funny how we appear to have different personalities in one body, and think and write in different languages. It is not as unusual as some people may think, and I have an impressive royal personage from the past who said something along a similar vein...

I speak Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men and German to my horse

(Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, 1500-1558 a.d.)

If you can understand Malay, you might want to read it. It's entitled 'Chembul' and can be accessed by Clicking Here.

My posting in my native Malay is very different from the Almanac. The language is err... how shall I say it...  replete with marketplace language (bahasa pasar), informal and often crass. It is very crude with little subtlety, almost non-existent prose and even my late sainted mother would be reluctant to consider it a fine piece of writing. And to top off this strange menagerie of language, I have adopted a different personality too, for I am known as 'Gue' in this new blog. Let me tell you that this is a startling surprise even to myself.

I am not sure whether I can keep up two blogs in my life. As it is, I am stealing time between chores and work to handle the Almanac, so perhaps I won't be maintaining Chembul. We will see...

Nothing to report today, sunshine. Just the strange thoughts that writers think in their tiresome search to find their voice... In whatever and however many languages they are 'fluent' in. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Language of the Dead is the Language of Love - Mika at the Garden of Stones

On Saturday morning, Mikhail was with me. And as the weather was lovely with just the slightest morning drizzle, we decided to visit Bukit Kiara Cemetery where rests the pusara (grave) of my late mother.

We visited her grave ready with our tasbihs (rosaries). Not that we used it, but it's good
to be ready, just in case. The black rosary from Oman was recently given to me by my father.
The colourful rosary from Mecca is Mikhail's, given by me. So grandfather to father,
and father to son. I like it when the circle is complete. And I am sure my mother loves it too.
She always had a very tidy mind, and likes thing neat and complete.

Mikhail is always drawn to the babies and toddlers' graves, just across from my mother's.

"She was only 3 months old!" Mika said, and sighing before observing,
"The good always die young, Papa..." The baby girl was born in November 2002,
before being laid to rest in January 2003. 

This is Mika's favourite spot in the cemetery, a giant boulder that was left undisturbed,
probably because it was too costly to be destroyed to rubble. The giant boulder appeared
to me to be a gravestone, but for whom? "This stone has a story to tell, Mika." I quipped.
"What story, Papa?" he asked. I told him to ask the giant boulder itself. I do that sometimes
when I do not know how to answer my son. Hehehe. Why be accurate when you can befuddle?

Beside the boulder is the New Garden of Babies. It is the latter section that now houses
the graves of babies and toddlers. It is a beautiful corner of this beautiful cemetery. Mika
went down  to have a bit of a wander-about.  

He stubbed his' Crocs' on the rock and his Sponge Bob Square Pants doll
fell off his sandal. At my suggestion he decided to give the doll to one of the
babies resting here. He picked one nearby and respectfully placed the doll at the grave.

Then he recited the al-Fatihah (Opening Verse of the Holy Quran) for the soul of
the baby. As we walked back he mused, "Papa, I hope the baby will get the Sponge Bob!"
To which I answered, "Well... even if he doesn't get the Sponge Bob, he would certainly have
received your prayer, Mika." He pondered for awhile before concluding, "That's good!"

So now Mika's right sandal is without Sponge Bob and his left sandal is kinda grotesquely missing Batman's head and right forearm. But I think that is just fine. For he has made a friend. You always make friends when you visit the cemetery, I believe. So long as you know how to speak the language of the dead - The Language of Love.

Have a beautiful Sunday, sunshine, from Mika and myself. May God bless your warm fuzzy hearts.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Lingua Franca of the Human Soul - Language of Love

They are of Turko-Indian-Malay descent, but their lingua franca
is the Language of Love. If you speak to them in any other language
your children will simply not understand you... So if you get angry because
your child cannot comprehend you, do not look for their errors,
look instead at yourself.

Do Not Tell Me

Do not tell me how you pray,

Do not tell me what your books tell you,

Do not tell me what your preachers preach

Boasting of their wisdom and heavenly reach.

Do not tell me what is right or wrong,

Do not tell me about your moral code,

Do not confide in me of your hubris

That has made your soul its warm abode.

Do not tell me about what you hate,

Do not tell me about what you know,

Do not be the human traffic light,

Telling people when to stop, slow down or go.

Stop supporting the peeping toms,

The sneak, the rat that is ratting sinners,

Stop quoting God like a hydrogen bomb,

Exploding the lives of His poor creatures,

Stop talking mercy while offering none,

Preaching ‘peace’ from the barrel of the gun,

Raining death from a cloudless sky,

As your children begs the question – why?

Keep the silence and say nothing

If you only have words of hate and wrath,

Speak to me only if you know

How to speak the Language of Love.

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

This is not a place of learning. This is not an almanac for those with wisdom or seeking wisdom. It has no such ambitions. This is a place for sinners to congregate and share their experiences. And perhaps, between the two of us, God may guide us to be sinners with good manners.

There is no alchemy than what is already within us. We have nothing special borrowed from the Lord's purse. No great insight, no wonderful knowledge, no great exposition of man and his nature. So don't tell me about your religion, speak to me instead in the Language of Love, for that is the lingua franca of the human soul.

Thank you for being you, sunshine. In these tumultuous, hubris and hate-driven days, you continue to keep me believing...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

At the Vocabulary Junction in the Forest of Our Wild Imagination

Forest river, near Janda Baik village, Pahang.

8. Ah, a Woman

Fragile and soft,

Yielding

But ever so

Commanding.

Heche's Abridged Complaint

I was sitting with Heche one day where she was complaining about not having enough self-confidence. I commiserated with her like any gentleman would, until her conversation winded down to "You know... I felt...umm. I felt like... umm...I was like errr..." I interrupted her vocabulary stalemate and commented tartly, "Yes, yes, I know. But do YOU know how lucky you are? If your mastery of the English language is better, can you imagine the sort of despairing prose you can be verbalizing right now? Don't you agree that sometimes it is GOOD not to be able to find the right words...?"

She threw a tissue box at me.

In the Forest of Our Wild Imagination

But really, when you think about it, isn't it good sometimes to be not so imaginative? I myself have a rather vivid imagination, and although I enjoy it, I will confide something with you here - My imagination has led me to some pretty dark places that I wish I have never ever known...

But I guess this is part of life - We don't always end up where we want to end up. And perhaps that is why our attachments to God and good conscience are like bread crumbs we leave behind. So even if we get lost in the Forest of our Wild Imagination, we can still find our way back out...

Alhamdulillah, I see the Sun again!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Intellectual Prison of Patriotism - Malaysia, English Language and the Last Refuge of the Linguist

ENGLISH OR BAHASA MELAYU? Malaysia is currently in the midst of a debate about education. The present government is abandoning the proposal to continue with the teaching of Science and Mathematics in government schools in the English language (PPSMI). The government has faced criticism in the implementation of the initiative because it was found that a substantial number of the maths and science teachers end up teaching in a mix of English and Bahasa Melayu (the national language of Malaysia) because of their lack of proficiency in English. This alone should not be the reason to drop PPSMI.

GOOD INTENTIONS? Malaysia has always suffered because of the good intentions of the government. In order to up the chances of the Malays passing in the secondary schools (among other reasons), the government dropped the English medium (When? Before my time, so it must have been in the 70s) of teaching in government schools. Thus, most of the current crop of teachers are all products of the present medium of teaching. As for yours truly, although I was educated in the system between 1977 to 1987, I was taught by teachers from the earlier generation, ergo my good luck.

DROPPING QUALITY? So we have many more Malays passing and scoring in secondary schools, and later in the local tertiary system. But sadly, their command of the English language is still weak and when faced with the reality of private sector work conditions, their poor English is a clear and apparent handicap. As someone who has interviewed many, many law graduates, the evidence is painfully clear. And this is strange because law is taught in the English medium in the local universities. So how did these kids manage to get through law school?

WHO CARES? WE DON'T. The government ministers are not too worried about all this because of course, many of their children go to private schools or have intensive English tuitions after school hours. In any event, because of their prosperity, their children are more likely to be exposed to the English language early and this continuous throughout their childhood. The politicians will not have to witness in silent agony as their children in college / university muddle through trying to make sense of the overwhelmingly English text and reference books. Why don't we enact a law that would prohibit politicians from sending their kids to private schools, locally or overseas? I am sure they WILL care then.

THE JAPANESE CAN DO IT! Opponents of the teaching of Maths and Science in English points out to countries like France, Germany and Japan, where they say that teaching in the national language did not hamper these countries' progress and development. This is an ingenious argument which fails to acknowledge certain historical facts about such countries -

• They are industrial countries with at least one whole century of industrial innovation and development. Malaysia was for most of the 20th century an agriculture based economy, and even then, the technical and commercial aspects were mostly in the English language.
• They have a very large and highly developed translation industry which produces text and reference books. I am not sure of the figure, but I can be you that Malaysia's translation industry is not as thriving as that in Indonesia.
• Their publishing industry is relatively independent of government control and censorship. Malaysia's publishing sector is controlled and manipulated through censorship and publishing laws, and this has a repressive effect on book and magazine projects.
• The reading culture of these countries are developed in their national language, with extensive publications of books, websites and periodicals covering all sorts of topics. Malay language reading habits encompass religious books and magazines, consumer and retail-centric periodicals and scandal magazines and websites.  

IT'S REALLY SO DIFFICULT! The Education Minister says that the Government will not implement the teaching of Science and Maths in English because it is too difficult and confusing. Isn't that what you are paid to resolve, you and the entire Ministry of Education? Sigh.

INTELLECTUAL PRISON. I am really saddened by the Malaysian Government decision. I love my country but this sort of patriotism is self-defeating. For to my mind, they are condemning another whole generation of the indigenous Malays to intellectual servitude. And intellectual servitude is just one small leap away from cultural, economic, religious and political servitude. The government (and the opposition, really) is happy with this because this means that the Malays shall not be reading the English websites, blogs and magazines, which by their nature tend to be much more open, diverse and progressive. A fitting prison for a whole race of people, to the gratification of politicians and religious preachers who do not desire to be challenged.

Well, damn it. Let's challenge them. Pay and educate the teachers better, increase the budget for education, and for goodness sake, if we need to spend to bridge the English Divide in Malaysia, spend the money. Because if we don't, Malaysia's slide in education will continue, and when educational standards decline, everything declines. 

Pax Taufiqa.

PS: Sorry, this is not my normal writing, but I feel very strongly about this. Back to the normal Sinners' Almanac programming in the next posting.

The Pillars of God and the Language of Love

This morning, as I gently eased my stout body on the plastic chair of the chinese kopitiam (restaurant) below my office, a wave of contentment passed through me. I have a home,but after almost 8 years of practising here, this is also home. Waves, smiles and handshakes were exchanged between me, the proprietor, the owners of the hawker stalls and workers that work here. I miss the awesome iced Nescafe that I always have in the morning before work starts. My office is still on holiday, but I yearned for the comforting atmosphere which greets me daily. So here I am, at my favourite table, facing the back alley, while above me a ceiling fan whirled. I am back where I belong.

Near me sat my favourite server that often brings me that iced Nescafe. He is having his brunch break for 10 minutes. He is Burmese, his wife is Indonesian, and they have a baby daughter of about one year old. I find it a comforting thought that fate somehow brought their lives together here, where they married and is starting a family. As a foreign general worker in Malaysia, things can really be difficult, but if you have the luck of getting a good boss, things are not so bad. The wife used to work in the chinese kopitiam next door, but since the change of owner, I have not seen her. 

This man used to make the most awesome char kuay teow (chinese fried broad noodles) in another chinese kopitiam nearby. But the owner of that kopitiam wanted to increase rental of space for his hawker stall, so he and a bunch of others left and joined this chinese kopitiam under my office. I remembered he once permed and dyed his hair purple, which did not affect the sale of his char kuay teow, but made him a curious sight here in Desa Sri Hartamas. He doesn't fry anymore of his char kuay teow, focussing instead on serving curry mee, beehoon soup and instant noodles. Which is too bad for me.

The chinese kopitiam nextdoor (which is seen next to the overturned tables) has always had a jinx to survive. I guess it 's because my chinese kopitiam has already built up a regular clientele who are loyal. In any event, the hawker stalls there are less varied. I know the first owner, a well-preserved chinese lady in her 50s who rejoices to the name of Jennifer. She is very friendly. But not even her charming manners could save the establishment and after one year she decided to cut her losses. She sold the business to a chinese-mongolian family. I do believe that the father figure is Malaysian (or possibly Singaporean), and he married a mainland China lady from the northern Chinese province of Inner Mongolia. The kopitiam is managed daily by their daughter who is called Yu Yu. They also tried to make good for about one year before succumbing to the inevitable. Now the kopitiam is run by two local chinese brothers. I have not had time to get to know them yet, but I guess I will soon enough.

In my breakfast today, I am accompanied by no one, save for one tech magazine and one tech book. The book is written by Cory Doctorow (co-editor of Boing Boing) and entitled 'CONTENT...'. Having almost finished the book, I am a convert to Cory's provocative thinking about information technology, copyright and the internet. This will have a big impact on how I interact with the netizens. But more about that in a separate posting later.

This is also my favourite spot in the kopitiam because if I sit here I would face what I call 'The Pillar of God'. The tiled column doesn't look like much but it is very important. For one thing it directly supports the structure and floor of the unit up stairs, which is my office. But most significant of all, upon its ragged surface an anonymous soul wrote in red ink - "God IS ETERNAL (or perhaps INTERNAL)." There are signs of the Divine in the most unlikely of places, and you will find them, if you are looking for them. Do not limit your cognitive senses for God merely in a mosque, church, temple, ashram or synagogue. God is everywhere, but you need to remind yourself of this all the time. Then the Universe will speak to you in words that your mind cannot compute, but is the mother tongue of your heart - In the Language of Love.

I hope you shall have a bright and wonderful Friday, sunshine. God bless.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

The Language of God, Love and Man.

The Language of Love

If you look for hate,

You shall find hate.

If you look for bitterness,

The entire world is large enough

To fill your cup of anguish.

If you look for despair,

It is there to draw your tears

And manifest all your fears.

But I look for the Pillars of God,

And I see the Pillars of God everywhere -

They help prop up the world,

And written upon them are runes

In the Language of Love.

You yourself are an adept

In the Language, it is

The mother tongue of

Your heart.

If you have all this while

Been deaf to the exhortations

Of your heart and her sister Conscience,

Be deaf no longer and re-learn

What you have forgotten.

Then speak the language -

It is a dialect which

The Universe understands,

The Language of God,

The Language of Love,

The Language of Man.

Heaven is what you seek?

But here is already the Garden of Meaning,

The Temple of Understanding,

The Rose of Divine Comprehension

That common man call the World

And the wise call the Divine Presence.

Your Lord awaits you, blessed mortal!

The genesis of this prose is from a posting that I will only upload later today entitled, "The Pillars of God - Pictures tell Stories". I am thinking it is perhaps interesting for me to share the prose first before I divulge its conception. And just like a human birth, the prose is conceived in the most unlikely of places.

Seek the Divine Presence, sunshine. And when you are there, Facebook, sms or email me because in all honesty, I am not there at all. I am just a crummy alley cat picking scraps and crumbs of love falling off the Table of the Wise.

Me. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq.