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 

FORMLESS, FORMED, FORMLESS - a little reflection on traditional sunnah archery

The Form of Archery and Life 

(or Formless, Formed, Formless)

Formless, the intention is sparked

Like a light within a light,

The intention is formed 

As you pick the arrow

And set it upon the bowstring,

You raise the bow

Drawing the bowstring,

Then you aim and release the arrow,

Thus completing your intention,

Your intention returns to its formless state, 

The arrow is flying, whirling through the air

Landing at a place pre-destined an eternity ago,

Landing at a place only God will know where...

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

An old friend said to me, "You know, it is pointless to be disappointed when the arrow misses the target. And it is as pointless to rejoice when the arrows hits the bulls eye."

Eh?

"Why be torn between two polar extremes of emotions, when you can have a constant state of calm happiness?" He continued. "After all, the form of archery, the physical aspects of the sport, and the formless state being your intention to follow the sunnah archery of our beloved Prophet (saws) is already a blessing in itself!"

Really?

"Yes... really. And if you do not believe me, then ask the regiment of angel archers that is shooting arrows with you because you are honouring the traditions of the Habibullah (saws)..."

I am obsessed by an obsession. I don't know how long it will last, but I am so happy to see my brother, my son and all my nephews similarly captivated. 

So do be careful, sunshine. Don't pick up that bow and arrow if you do not want to spend hours and hours shooting arrows, fixing arrows, repairing and installing targets. And to be thrown into a circle of friends who are kind, generous, hilarious and exceedingly good-looking. May Allah bless their big hearts!

He he he.

Have a lovely day, sunshine. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

GOD HIDES. YOU HIDE. WE ALL HIDE. - mortal faith, love and hope in the promises of an unseen God.

Hiding

Lovers embracing, hiding in an old chestnut tree,

Children playing, hiding under stairs and in broom closets,

Thunder rumbling, hiding in an overcast sky,

My soul is praying, hiding in unspoken gestures,

My spirit is with my Lord, hiding far from you and I,

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

Hiding Humans. We all hide. Such is the nature of things. We hide in our clothes, in our makeup. We hide in our wallets, we hide in our credit card accounts. We hide behind our beard and our veils. We hide behind our academic qualifications and in our office title. We hide behind our smiles and charity. Sometimes the form betrays the true reality of our inner selves. But often they are disguises. I am not saying hiding is necessarily a bad thing. It is just how we are wired.

God Hides Too. Indeed, He is the best player in hide and seek. He is perhaps comparable to Time and Sound. For both natural events, like God, cannot be seen, but can be indirectly observed through the movement of the hand on a clock, and experienced by our sense of hearing. And God? Well it is that good feeling you have when you find your lost wallet. The descending calmness of acceptance in the demise of a brother. The smile from a stranger. The encouraging word from a colleague at work. So God is hidden, but He is also felt in our heart. For what other reason would He have made Man with a heart? 

Revelation is a created thing too, an expression of the Divine Will. God is hidden in this world and also in the hereafter. It is only by His choosing that He elects to reveal Himself. But what is true revelation when He is the Creator of revelations and the divine presence? Can the Uncreated One manifest His desire and will in a created thing? A created event? He can of course. It is up to Him. He sets the rules of Creation, He sets the script and the music. He can unbend anything and unmake anything. So in such circumstances are we constantly made aware of His presence and His Goodness. But what direct evidence do we have of His existence? 

Only in our hope upon His assurances... that He is Most Loving, Most Powerful, Most Compassionate and Merciful to us. The All-Knowing, All-Seeing and All-Hearing One. Such is the form He deigns to wear for our sake. What is the Essence of the form? It is beyond our conjecture, for such question is an existential rabbit hole that will break our mind and may possibly drive us blinking mad. I am not going speculating in that direction, for I see only emptiness and madness.

So all we have is in truth, Hope in His Promises. And I guess this is what is called faith (iman) that dwells in the heart of a believer. No one will understand this logic if he or she is not A Student of Love.

Thank God we all are!

Have a beautiful evening, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

GOOD ATTRACTS GOOD - now that you are not here...

Now That You Are Not Here

Dear gentle soul,

Now that you are gone,

I constantly pray for you,

As I know you are constantly praying for me,

Dear gentle soul,

You were not meant to be long here,

Beneath the eaves of this forest of trees,

And the tall roofs of the minaret spires,

Where are you walking now that you are not here?

Now that you have nothing left to fear?

Dear gentle soul,

The middle child of two beautiful souls,

Will you give my greetings to our mother,

Now that you are with her and not here?

Dear gentle soul,

You shall now never grow old,

And your love will never grow cold.

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

My late brother, Saiful Bahri, whom I call Abang Chik (meaning, literally older younger brother) and you call Poone would undoubtedly say to me, "Enough already laaa with the poems (us Malaysians like to say laaa at the end of everything to stress a point)". But if he took such an unexpected and discourteous exit from this world (well, God fated his passing, but I am still going to blame Poone), I think I deserve as much time as I want to write about him. Because, frankly, I won't be posting anything at all here in the Almanac if I am not writing about my dear brother.

Mak Ndak, my auntie sitting near the foot of Poone's grave.
Well, that's what I call her. My brother called her Mak, meaning mother, for
she cared for him when he was just a baby, as my parents
had to travel overseas for my father's further studies.

Last week, a very excellent friend of my brother called Boy (though he is not a boy anymore) dropped by the house to ask for directions to find Poone's grave in the cemetery. We did not talk for very long, but I was deeply touched by what he said. "You know..., if I get to heaven, I would wish my father and mother to be there, my wife, my children... and Poone."

From all these unnecessary accolades about my brother, I rather take it that my brother was a jolly good fellow. And I think in his all-too short life, Poone also collected a bunch of jolly good fellows as friends.

Good attracts Good. That's what I think. Don't you agree, sunshine?

Have a lovely Monday now.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

MERDEKA POEM 2013 - Malaysia's 56th Birthday - A Country is an Idea - Zombie States - Our merdeka from our own ego

Merdeka! (with postscript)

If I appear to you ill-used, forgive me.

People have used me, used my name

And said "I am doing this thing

In her name and 

For her sake!"

I don't know what they are talking about!

If I appear to you confused, forgive me.

For people who live with me say one thing

And yet do another,

They talk of compassion, but only for themselves

And those like them,

They talk of progress, but they abuse me

And take me for granted,

They talk of God, but they show no mercy whatsoever,

Confusing information with knowledge,

Confusing knowledge with wisdom,

 Confusing tolerance for weakness...

If I appear to you lost, forgive me.

For how would you feel if people try

To disconnect you from your past?

From your own history,

From the testaments and pledges

That were made on your birthday?

Therefore, if I appear ill-used, use me well,

If I appear confused, end your own confusion,

If I appear lost, learn your own history,

And if ever anyone was unkind to you,

What can I say? I am very, very sorry.

For they do not represent me

No matter what you have been told.

I am Malaysia, 

And this month I shall be 56 years old.

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

The Postscript

And even you would be hard-pressed

To look young and desirable at my age...

So have no fear,

Do not be depressed,

Quell your hate and your rage.

For the bumps and knocks that you feel

Are the bumps and knocks I also feel,

It is the opening of our new chapter,

The turning of a new page.

So Happy Birthday to you

And Happy Birthday to me!

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

My birthday. The picture is not colour, but the day was colourful!

Happy Birthday, you are 56! Come, 31st August, we are all 56 years old. We, meaning the 29 million people who live in Malaysia and call themselves Malaysians. Please excuse my poetic license as most people will point out that Malaysia was in fact born on 16th September 1963 when the states of Sabah and Sarawak joined the Federation of Malaya to create Malaysia. But ultimately, the genesis of Malaysia and Hari Malaysia (Malaysia Day, which we also celebrate) can be traced to the Hari Merdeka (Independence Day) on 31st August, 1957. So there.

I am an idea. Yours. 

We are (or should consider ourselves at least) 56 years old because we are born into a country that old. So our life has been moulded in the socia-economic, political and spiritual structure of the state, no matter how independent or free-spirited we may think we are. 

A Country is an Idea. As I reflect at the age of 56, like most people, death doesn't seem like such a distant event anymore. And for my country, I began to wonder about its mortality too. How many years more does Malaysia have left? One? Ten? Twenty? One Hundred? Unlike us humans, where death is inevitable and can be statistically determined, the life of a country can be extended for the foreseeable future, so long as human civilization exists. For a country is in fact a metaphysical entity, an idea. 

The Zombie States. And it can exist so long as people believe and work towards realizing that idea. For some countries, which are categorized by the media pundits as 'failed states' (Afghanistan, North Korea and Iraq spring to mind), they exist in a strange limbo between reality and ideal, where they are still members of the United Nation and retain some semblance of normal stately functions, but are in fact lifeless and soulless... The Walking Dead of Nations. Sad but true. 

I see many countries here. And I see a few more on life-support...

Our Educational & Ethical Deficit. No, I don't think my country has qualified to join the infamous troupe of zombie countries, yet. I think Malaysia still has some life in it, some soul and some ideals. But we gotta arrest our decline in our educational system. That is uber-important. And we also need to redress the professional and ethical deficit of all sectors of public and private life. Yes, the rot is not in the civil service alone, in some sense it is perpetuated and actively encouraged by the private sectors too. In this scenario, everyone who has taken or directly or indirectly benefited from a bribe, whether it is in the tens of millions of Ringgit Malaysia (our currency) or even for a mere RM10.00 is complicit in corruption. But as the saying goes, the fish rots from the head, so all the bosses and leaders must account for their actions and consider the country, the ideals that they are teaching their children and just what sort of future we are leaving for them.

This country , Papa... Did you make it better? Or did you make it worse?

Independence from Our Own Ego. My religion is Islam, my race is Malay, my nationality is Malaysian and ultimately, my species is human. So let us reach out towards one another in the spirit of Merdeka (independence)... to counter the hateful ideology of the ego, manifested in hubris, ugly nationalism, colonialism, corporate slavery and bigotry. For in my book, there is no merdeka more important than the independence from our own ego. And submission to the Love of God the Lord of Mercy, the Giver of Mercy.

This is what my Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s) teaches me, sunshine. Otherwise, merdeka and independence just becomes a throw-away word with little meaning or life to it. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Hate Need Not Be Their Fate - the encounter between the World of Hate and the World of Love

A verse of Rumi

Sings from the book,

Reminding me, once again,

That Love was here

Before me,

A smiley drawn

On a sandy shore,

Tells me, once again,

That Love was

Here before,

The peddlers of hate

Often tell us that

Their hate was here

Before they were born,

But beneath the rainy sky,

And across the fields of corn,

Walking through a lavender field,

I cannot but wonder why...

Why do they live their life for hate,

When theirs were a home

That Love built?

And for whatever stories

That they might hear...

Hate need not be

Their fate.

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

Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad

History and Present Hate. Pundits, the dogs of war and the hyenas of the mainstream like to portray the conflicts in the world today as a generational inheritance. An age-old dispute and blood feud passed down from father to son. Whether they are spouting generalizations about the so-called East-West conflict, the so-called Clash of Civilizations between Islam and Judeo-Christianity, the Sunni and the Shia, or the Sinhalese and  the Tamils, at the end of the day, for an age-old hatred to find expression, someone in the present, not in the past, must take up arms to inflict harm on his neighbour. So we should stop blaming the past for the past, as if we are dogs collared and destined to perpetuate the hate, bigotry and hubris of our forefathers. 

Mahatma  Gandhi

Another Planet. What do you feel when you watch the television news or read the media coverage? For myself, I find that the hatemongers and patronizing opinions of the so-called impartial pundits to be a broadcast or a news article from some strange and hideous world that is not mine, and nor do I think, it is yours. 

For hating and hate-filled people live in a separate planet entirely on their own, whether they call themselves Buddhist, Hindus, Jews, Muslims, Christians, Agnostics or Atheists. Oh, they may be walking on the same Earth as we do... but their Earth, their world is very, very different. The brewers of hate and the warlocks of war tread in a world contrary to the world of Mahatma Gandhi and his friend and counsel, Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad... and of course, our dear old bleeding heart, Rumi the Fluent.

A Footnote in History. To them, let it be their way, for us, ours. For in the inevitable encounter between the World of Hate and the World of Love, hate becomes nothing but a footnote in the unveiling of Divine Power, of which, we sinners and believers, may play some small part in. 

May you have a lovely day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

KNOWLEDGE, LOVE, FORTITUDE, WORDS & BREATH - The Ramadan Story, Part 13

Not Until I Have Returned

Knowledge, don't betray me,

Don't make me believe that I know,

Not when I am often confused,

Wondering if I should stay, loiter or go.

Love, don't deceive me,

Don't make passion to be my guide,

Not when the path to happiness is patience,

Patience to wait and to see what is wrong 

And what is right.

Fortitude, don't forsake me,

Don't leave me when the going gets tough,

Don't leave me to my own vices,

So easily falling when the path gets rough.

Words, don't fail me now,

Don't leave me speechless when I need you most,

Not when there is still many prose to be written,

About God, about the Prophet, 

About the Garden and the Rose.

Breath, don't leave me yet,

Not until I have said what needs to be said,

Not until I have written what needs to be written,

To complete my earthly travel, 

Before finally crumbling in a state of prostration,

Crying out, ya Allah! ya Rasulullah... 

I have returned!

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

When Heche gave me The Hobbit poster last night (see earlier posting, He Hu Never Lets Us Sinners Down...), I was so happy. And I said to her later over the phone, "You know, I not only like this present. I am impressed!"

Even  without seeing her face, I knew she would be smiling extra wide, with a sense of gratification. Gratification because she has always considered me a smart sort of fellow. Which is of course a mistake. For I don't think I am smart at all. For however much knowledge that I have been able to trawl from the ocean of knowledge, I still cannot answer this very simple question about Heche...

Why is she still with me?

After all, I am not rich, I am not good-looking. I am overweight and have serious health issues.  I can be grumpy, especially when I am fasting. And I can be impatient with boring conversation. 

I think until the day that I wheeze out my final sonorous breath, I will still have this question troubling me. 

Oh well, at least then I can get to ask God. He would be able to answer, no doubt. And indeed, while I have the opportunity, I might also bother Him with these burning queries...

Why do You care and love me so?

How are You able to overlook all my sins?

How can You still attend to me when I have often left You?

Who am I that You see that I myself do not see?

I guess what little Knowledge, Love, Fortitude, Words and Breaths I have left shall continue to sustain me until that day. 

So until then, walk with me, sunshine. And forgive me my contratemps, such as they shall be.

wa min Allaha at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

HE HU NEVER LETS US SINNERS DOWN - The Ramadan Story, Part 12

Uh oh. That's a lot of candles!

Numbers. Numbers are important. Especially to God, for it is through bearing witness to His Absolute Oneness and Utter Uniqueness (which is even beyond our bare estimation of what is common and what is unique), that makes you a believer in Him, in our One God. What makes you on the way to be a Muslim (for it is of course a journey), is to bear witness that Muhammad bin Abdullah (s.a.w.s.), is His Messenger.  

Clingy. Numbers are important to me too. Especially yesterday, when I crossed the threshold of 42 into the brand new me of 43 years old. I don't know why, but since hitting 40 I feel like time is accelerating, and I am being flung across the time-space continuum when I am still barely getting over not being a 30-something. Dismayed by the ever increasing numbers of candles on my birthday cake, I am becoming more and more attached to the number One, a.k.a. Allah (s.w.t.), the Most Loving, Most Assuring One. Perhaps not just attached... perhaps even clingy... Oh God! Don't leave me to these distracting and confusing numbers! 

Clingy. You get this way with age. He he he.

One. But numbers can also be good fun (and a good read). For instance, do you know that the number of words that make up The Hobbit bestseller by J.R.R. Tolkien? It is 95,694 words according to Wiki.Answers.Com. And from this same source, I also found out that the number of pages of The Hobbit depends on what edition you have, but they tend to be somewhere in the range of 270 to 330 pages. The reason why I am sharing with you this oh-so-interesting information (wait, wait, don't fall asleep yet!) is because last night Heche gave me my birthday present. It was the entire book printed on a single poster. For a Lord of the Rings acolyte, this is considered Tolkien-nirvana.

You can't read it from this small jpeg, but it's all there... the entire book. The poster is jusr
below 4 feet tall and more than 2 feet wide I reckon. When framed it must be mounted
on a wall in a library. And just when I was thinking of ending my tenancy at the Hermitage in
the Sky, Heche gives me a reason to stay on. There is a library, you see, in the Hermitage.

One But Any Number and Beyond Infinity. We had my (second) birthday dinner at my neighbourhood Mamak (Indian-Muslim) restaurant which is well known more for its location and service than its food or drink (I am being honest here). It is a bare spartan establishment, but I have had many a cuppa there and for this birthday I just wanted something friendly and familiar. So myself, Heche, Fifi, Efa and Kamarul purchased some food from the Ramadan Bazaar and enjoyed a cheerful break-fast there, thanks to the flexible interpretation of the no-outside-food rule by Iqbal the manager. So you see, the number 6 made me very happy yesterday too. For God is indeed the One, but when it comes to blessings, His measure is any number and beyond infinity.

HU. Allah (s.w.t.) is Hu (He). And Hu is He Hu never lets us down... masyaAllah, even if I am just a dog barking at the door of the Master.

Woof Woof!

That is sinner talk to mean "Right now I am simply happy. Thank you."

I was alone in the rain. Then You came and said You were my Friend.

Have a lovely day today, sunshine, and while you are at it, have a nice life too. For only God can truly compensate you for finding a place in your heart for an incorrigible sinner like me. Woof woof!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Great Days Now, Great Days Ahead - Mika and his sampin

"... I knew I should have tied his sampin tighter..."

My nine-year old son, Mika, insists on wearing the full traditional Malay attire for prayers at the mosque. It is called the Baju Melayu (literally the Malay shirt) and consists of unicoloured pants and round-collared long-sleeved shirt. Around the waist would be tied a sampin (a traditional sash with with intricately woven designs) and topped off with the songkok (a black-coloured velvet headgear). 

Last time we went for maghrib prayers (evening / sunset), his sampin came loose before prayers even started. So I confidently called Mika, "Come here..." and tied it back around his waist. "Wow, Papa... you tied the sampin so fast! Bibik takes so long to do it!", he said to which I smiled contentedly, "Ah, it comes with experience, Mika..."

Soon the khatib called the congregation for prayers. Half-way through the first rakaat (first cycle of the three-cycle maghrib prayers) the sampin came gently undone and fell around Mika's ankles. 

He he he. So much for experience.

But he carried on praying unperturbed and later we had a great laugh about it. Chuckling and simpering impolitely in the mosque like two buddies.

These must be some of the greatest days of my life, I think.

May your days and nights be as wonderful, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

God bless the Invisible Thread! - fathers and mothers, sons and daughters...

The Invisible Thread

There is an invisible thread

Between your heart and your child's,

And every tremor, every passion and peace,

Every fear, hope, every ambition and wish

Passes like mercury between the two of you,

So think beautiful things and thoughts,

Reflect with candour and gratitude

For all that the Lord has wrought,

Above all, that which is your child,

And the invisible thread 

That is between the two

Of you.

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

I am off to Singapore again shortly for work. So I shall miss my Saturday with Mika, my 9-year old son.

It is weary sometimes, working apart and away from your children. Not being able to come home to them. But this is just a two day's delay. My esteem for those who have to work outstation or overseas for months (or even years!) on end without seeing their children cannot be over estimated.

And the love that such parents have for their children - to work in a foreign country just so they  can give their children a better life?

God bless all fathers and mothers, all sons and daughters!

And God bless the Invisible Thread!

Have a wonderful Friday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

GANG RELATED DRIVE-BY HU-ING

"Watch out! It's the Habibi St Crew!
Grab your tasbihs (rosaries)!!"

Nothing kills a joke like explaining it. So I won't commit humouricide so early this morning. If you get it, you get it. If you don't, don't worry. Be happy. 

I haven't sketched for ages. This toon was conceived when I recall that I used to come by a Sufi zawiya (small mosque) and park outside, listened and participated in their dzikr (remembrance of God by recitation of His names and divine attributes) while still in my car (Can I be more lazy?). Then I imagine a gang of Sufis hitting their opposing crew on the other side of town with recitations of dzikr, shooting love instead of bullets out of their hearts instead of an Uzi. You know... gang-related drive-by Hu-ing.

Have a beautiful Monday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Just As You Are - people are real, corporations are a myth

A friend.

Just As You Are

Tis’ better to be a master of a small boat,

Than an able seaman of a giant liner,

Tis’ better to be the lady of a cottage,

Than the maid of a mansion,

Tis’ better to cast a small shadow

Than to cast one bigger than yourself,

Diminished, I return to my small abode,

Diminished, I stroll down the quiet road

To my small heart and my small ambition,

To my books and my music,

As I seek solace from my Lord

And hear Him assure me

Time and time again,

Though I deserve no assurance…

 “Others may not see you as a star

But you are quite enough

For Me just as you are.”

…………………………

As a lawyer (for I am one), I take some pride with knowing 'stuff', thinking I 'understand' the world and the working of the human mind. I like to believe that I know 'what's what' and above all, that with all this vast knowledge, I won't let anyone make use of me. 

He he he.

Well, a couple of days ago I was well and truly 'used' by my  client. Completely dropped into the crapper and expected to learn to swim in the deep end of the pool. He he he. But I didn't drown. I managed to get to the pool's edge, but only just. Funnily enough, it was not from any help from my client, but rather the 'other side'. My client was a corporation, and the other side were individual human beings. I guess it should come to no surprise that people are better than corporations. After all, corporations have no feelings or morality.

Even politicians (and this is saying a lot!) are better than limited liability corporations. For at the end of the day, they are still human beings, representing themselves and their personal opinions and ideals, however moral or immoral it may be. A company is a means by which businesses derive maximum profitability with minimum accountability, as a corporate veil comes down upon man's greed and avarice, hiding its unquenchable appetite for money and power behind 'cute', 'friendly' and 'green' slogans, cooked up by their advertising and PR consultants.

I am still bitter at being used, I guess. He he he.

But I am here, and I am still alive and writing. I have done nothing deserving of this, but I have your kind company. So despite all this complains, life is, as always, actually beautiful. Alhamdulillah. 

Thank you, sunshine, for dropping in. Have a wonderful sabbath.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The New Year 1434 - Maal Hijra and the Tree of Choices

1434 at the Stronghold of Love

I laid siege on the Stronghold of Love for a whole year.

Then a Master of Love came out upon the high ramparts

And said, “You have wasted one long year besieging us,

When you could have gained entry with but one phrase…”

“And what is that phrase?”, I asked.

“In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.”

He replied and continued,

“So the year 1433 has passed you by,

And the year 1434 is coming near,

Will you shed another year of tears

And upon Love’s Gate to wilt and die,

Or will you now believe in the words

That your heart have often spoken

But your mind has long denied?”

……………………………….

In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful - or in Arabspeak, BismillahiRahmaniRahim, is possibly the most recognizable Muslim phrase in all the sultanates and kingdoms of the Muslim world, and even outside. But truth be told here, it is a collection of words that I am forever trying to tie my turban around... and  failing miserably.

As I gingerly make my way through this life, filling my barrel of deeds with both good and rotten apples of my own picking, the phrase BismillahiRahmaniRahim continues to expand in its breadth and scope. 

We do not know, if we shall live the full twelve months of this Islamic calendar year. Perhaps we may only see the sunrise of just one day of 1434. But that is not our worry, for our passing is predestined as our birth was. I think we need only to concern ourselves with picking more good apples and trying to avoid the rotten apples that life and fate may be growing in our Tree of Choices. That is all.

So come on, sunshine. Let's climb this Tree... in the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful - BismillahiRahmaniRahim!

Happy new year, my friends.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way