Death Beneath the Bowing Eaves

A MEETING
I came to see you, 
Beneath the bowing eaves
Of the willow trees, 
Bent in praise to the Lord,

I greeted you kindly, 
But your downcast eyes
Did not see me at all,
Cast in pearly tears
For a life spent
Looking for love
All your weary years,

Beneath your emerald robe
Rivers of sadness streamed,
Above your noble head
Was tied a turban 
Of strange symmetry,

Two roses keep your company,
Burnished white and crimson,
The shy fleeting prayers
From two constellations,

At the end of the river
Two clouds form
Like a burial wreath,
For all your trials,
Your poverty, your sickness
And your wealth,

Now finally, you looked up
And you saw me,
And then you said,
"O Death...?"   

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

Prepping for death. I am advised that all I need to know about life is that it is best spent preparing for death. For that moment not to be hastened or delayed when we are introduced to Mr. D himself. But waitaminute... my mistake, it is not about prepping ourselves for death, but for the life after death. "I am but a door." Death says.

Evil does not win by death. In the ancient and modern take of life and death, I find it interesting that ghosts, demons and all sorts of nefarious creatures (including mankind also) are treated to have succeeded in their wickedness if they are able to terminate the life of the hero / heroine / innocent in a story. You will find this in the oldest folklore and you can watch it in the most contemporary horror films. For a believer, death is not a dice game between good and evil. For these fellows death is a threshold to a homecoming, as birth is a witness to a sorrowful parting.  

Azrael (Izra'il) Mr. Death is no servant of the wicked or evil. As an Arch Angel of God, he gets his instructions from the Divine Presence. And no doubt a piece of paper with our names scribbled will one day pass into his angelic In-Tray. InsyaAllah, may we all end in a good passing, at the end of a life beautifully lived as a servant of God and humanity. You know... to be remembered as good sorta chap (or chapette).

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Good News and the Good Ending - the thing about talking with God is to not interrupt Him...

Talking with God is always a knotty matter. But with patience
you can unravel the most beautiful of meanings... God

Set No Limit to My Love

My servant, My love, My friend…

Why are you sad and despondent,

Why are you angry and bitter,

Sorrowful and full of woe

Listening to what I am sharing with you?

For I have not finished speaking

And never will I...

As I am deeply, sincerely

And ever faithfully in love with you…

Not a step that you take,

Not a breath that you inhale and exhale

That is not in My plan for you,

So despair not if despair comes calling,

So worry not if you hear trouble

Knocking on your door,

For it will always be Me, your Lord, your God

Who shall always love you,

Forever more,

This you would know if only

You would let Me finish speaking...

So give glad tidings to those who would listen,

That I am this way, and I am the Right way,

The God that they forgot,

Who loves them, Who loves you,

With a Love that is beyond what you may think

To be a fair and true,

For I am the Most Fair,

I am the One Most Lovely,

And My name is Truth itself,

So set not any limit of Love unto Me.

Because I have no limit set unto Myself,

…………………………..

6am. I am sitting hear in my room, waiting for the birds outside my window to sing the songs of Dawn. They do it every morning like clockwork.

Last Saturday morning I spent some time listening to a dear friend, an old and ancient soul. "Do you know what is the source of human sorrow, hate, anger and despair?" He said. "It is firstly because Man sets limits on God's Love. And secondly, it is because they like to interrupt His speech and come to a premature conclusion. Because if life, both mortal and eternal, can be defined, it is an abiding and constant conversation between you and God. And all the bitter and hateful episodes in this life is attributable solely on your premature judgment on what God is saying to you."

I thought over what he said. And it is true. So true. Now the only thing is the patient contemplation to wait for the Good News and the Good Ending that God wants to share with us. I am good (some people say) at contemplation. But I am the first to admit that patience doesn't come easy. So perhaps there is some spade work for us to labour here in this world. Yet if you recall, are you not talking with God already? So truth be told, how can you not already be a winner...? We need simply to listen to Him. And not interrupt.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Patience, Perfection and the Light of Muhammad - on the road with Mikhail

1. Just between you and Me

There will be people

Too wise and godly

Who will say,

“O’ Lord, she calls

Unto You

In poor speech.”

But just between you and Me, o’ seeker

I think you call on Me beautifully.

……………………….

Patience or Perfection?

I picked up Mikhail earlier today, and as we were driving the verbal overflow began from my 8 year old. He told me about the house warming party he went to on Friday, and that his mother recently purchased for him a new pair of shoes.

He may not look like much, but Mika can come up
with some pretty profound questions.

While on the way to the neighbourhood IKEA store, he asked me an interesting question, “Papa, which is better… Patience or Perfect?”

“What do you mean, Mika?”

He sighed the sigh of a 8 year old patiently dealing with a slow father and replied. “Papaa…, remember? Patience is better than passion right?” eluding to a conversation we had some time back, “...So which is better this time, patience or perfect?”

“Oh…, you mean perfection?” I clarified.

“Yeah, yeah. Which is better, patience or perfection?” asked the curious Mika.

“Hmm. Well I reckon that perfection is better than patience. But true perfection is owned only by God. But if you are looking for perfection in this world… then the best bet would be Nabi Muhammad (pbuh).”

He thought for a while, then concluded, “Yeah. I think you are right!”

……………………….

I know my son asks all sorts of question, and sometimes I wonder whether he actually understands the full extent of what he is questioning. And indeed, whether he can comprehend the answers that I try to give him. But an old soul dropped by a moment ago and said to me, “It does not matter, Taufiq. After all, who are you to say that even now, you fully comprehend what you are saying, thinking or even feeling?”

He he he. Yeah. I worry too much.

NurMuhammad - Light of Muhammad. That is why this evening I am sharing with you the above prose entitled “Just between You and Me”. Because the Me here is God, who unlike us mortals, fully comprehends not only what we say or do, but as our Creator, He is in complete knowledge of our nature – our strengths and our frailties, our passion and our patience, our highs and our lows, our good and bad. And while He sees us in our dire imperfection, for a strange beautiful reason, He still loves us and has the most incredible hope for our success. And for Muslims the world over, that strange beautiful reason is manifested in God’s highest and very first creation, the NurMuhammad (Light of Muhammad) of the Prophet(pbuh). As to what is actually the NurMuhammad is something inexplicable to me. What is the nature and material that makes up this first created light is beyond my understanding. What I do know is that upon the unveiling of the NurMuhammad, verily, God fell in love with His Creation.

Angel: I find your imperfections beguiling, Mikhail. When we asked God why
He created Mankind that is so imperfect in so many ways, He only replied
to us, "I know what ye knows not."

This Sufi parable is played out every day in our life. Especially if you are blessed with children. Such is the lessons we may learn in our difficult but often poignant and always beautiful experiences as a parent.

May God bless our children, and our fathers and mothers who reared us with love, affection and of course, patience. We may not be perfect, but to be loved by God and His Prophet is already the perfect beginning and ending of our journey in this world. It is strange how often we get distracted and forget this very simple truth.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Dervish on a Jasmine Flower

The Dervish on a Jasmine Flower

I dreamt you were dressed in white,

Whirling on a flower with white petals,

I dreamt of you last night,

Dancing in a robe adorned with pearls,

I dreamt you were a dervish,

Dancing on a Jasmine flower,

Gently falling to the ground

As the Universe whirled all around,

Gently perishing in a Divine embrace,

The Jasmine and you eternally entwined.

We must all have our dreams. For this world is not enough to contain our love. This world is after all only a looking glass. A divine mirror. A brief reflection upon the Beauty that is God.

We have no particular knowledge of God. What little we know are hearsay, stories passed down from the time of Adam and Eve. There is nothing wrong in this. For this world is essentially a hearsay. And wise are those who realise that even direct experience is hearsay - "That is what we hear. But who is to say what is right or wrong?"

We banish such doubts upon the Jasmine of Love. The white flower wherein perishes all doubt. And all lovers...

What a strange posting this is, sunshine!

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

God, Muhammad, Man and the Mystical Buraq - Veneration of Muhammad

13. God making a point

People always see God making a point,

But they always try to come closer

To study the point.

Forgetting that when God makes a point,

It is like the tip of an iceberg,

Or the twinkle of a faraway star.

Approach at the peril of your mortality.

More than 7 years ago, in this very roadside food stall selling tomyam (Siam) dishes that I shyly passed to my friend Longhair, a copy of a prose entitled "The Buraq, A Dialogue." For a couple of minutes Longhair perused before finally sighing, leaning back and wiping his tears. "Whoah, Canemaker!" He exclaimed (I used to make walking-sticks back then). Well, if the prose can make a grown man with 3 kids cry, maybe prose-ing is a worthwhile endeavour after all. I have stuck to writing and have not stopped since.  

1. The Buraq, A Dialogue

Take me not to the Garden Eternal (asked the man)
To tarry there forever and journey no further
I have not come from a world of distractions
Only to be rewarded with yet another

Take me to him instead, my faithful Buraq
Far from this world, that world and that world
Speed me to him, to the Lord’s Messenger,
Muhammad the Fragrant Rose, Ocean’s Hidden Pearl!

I was not created to carry nothing, o’ man (replied the Buraq)
Nothing were you before Allah and as nothing you have returned
Now nothing stands between you and your pursuit so fair
Ah! Did he not say, “…whereof I shall be, my nation shall also be there…”?

Swiftly off my back, oft-blessed child of Adam!
Your prayers have been answered before it was asked
Do you believe your desire for Muhammad could equal or surpass
His desire for you to be with him at last?

Ya Ahad! Ya Ahmad! Ya Ahad! Ya Ahmad!
Blessed is the Nation of Muhammad!

The funny thing of course is that Longhair is possibly the most hypersensitive man in Damansara Heights, if not the whole of Malaysia. So perhaps it was on a false premise that I started writing prose regularly. But who cares? It has been and continues to be a good trip. The only fly in the ointment is that I have not actually lost my mortality. "Keep it." I hear a voice cautioning me.

So I guess it is beholden on you and me, sunshine, to proceed with our journey to study God's point and challenge the 'voice.' And with a bit of able divine luck, we may still lose our mortality just yet!

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

It is you, so the day is lucky already! - God's Grace and Human Gratitude

163. How lucky are you!

How lucky are you to be

In the company of the certain ones,

To only worry about the little inconveniences in life,

About your weight, where to eat today,

And how to survive till payday.

How lucky are you to be you,

Though you fight to hide your true station,

Suffering those little sins to keep heaven at bay

While you finish your furlough here.

How lucky are you to know

That when the time comes for you to leave,

There is a space for you onboard the vessel

Departing this mortal hassle.

How lucky are you!

For I espied you, with other beautiful souls,

Chatting atop Mount Qaf, and joking

About mortal bodily functions

And other things

I care not to mention.

Thus am I certain

Of what I speak.

You think I jest,

But I speak the truth.

How lucky are you to be you!

I do not intentionally lie in this almanac. But sometimes I do not disclose everything. But in this prose I am pouring my every little praise for you. Thank you for dropping by, and thank you for sharing your good luck with me.

'Good Luck' or as some serious beards would call it - 'Divine Grace'. It is the claim for all grandchildren of Adam and Eve. If they only would raise their heads above the rat race, and ask the right questions. And perhaps not to be so infatuated with worldly cheese...

Have a lucky day, sunshine. But what am I saying? It is you... so the day is lucky already. Praise the Lord!

Pax Taufiqa.

I am you, the Complete Soul - Prose of Ramadhan Part 71

I am the complete soul (Ramadhan Verses 36)

I am my flames of punishment,

I am my rivers of paradise,

I am the candle,

I am me.

I am the laughter of little babies,

I am the stolen kisses,

I am the grass 

I am the trees,

I am the shattered heart,

I am the complete soul,

I never age,

I never

Grow

Old.

I do not exist

Save as a divine metaphor,

You were born, you live,

Then you die.

But I? I never passed

Through that

Door.

I am you

In the Divine Presence

You may not remember me,

But I certainly

Remember

You.

I am informed by reliable sources that the soul which inhabit our bodies is but a small fragment of our original soul, which continues to abide in the Divine Presence. So we are here in our skins, exiled from a place which is greater than heaven. While we loiter around on earth, our complete soul, though captivated in a sublime pleasure which cannot be described, awaits our homecoming to the Divine.

Our soul in the Divine Presence is happy, but incomplete - As we often sense ourselves here in the mortal realm, even in our most ecstatic of experiences.

Something to ponder over, dear old soul.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Holiness is what people chase after when they cannot find pleasure - Prose of Ramadhan Part 54

The Holiness of Pleasure (Ramadhan Verses 31)
Holiness is what people chase after
When they cannot find pleasure.


Hubris is what people attain
After they think they have achieved humility.


Humility is how people disguise
Their insecurities.


People often use religion to
Rationalise their bigotry.


Yet having no pretensions
Is the worst pretension
Of them all. .

The spiritual way is the most rewarding path for those who desire to live life to its fullest. And the only way that you can do that is to squeeze each meaning, double meanings, contradictions and constancies from every moment of your short mortal existence.

It is no way for the faint hearted. For once you have reached one plateau of understanding, you will find that there is another, and another, and another. The meaning of moments is that Divine tube of toothpaste you hold in your soul– you squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and you KNOW that there is always another dollop of meaning still left inside the tube. You just need to know how to squeeze that damn thing out. It takes practice, but you can do it. It is called contemplation and reflection. Some people call it praying, but others call it living. The latter is in a better state than the former.

I am just 41, but I feel old. Ancient even. Sometimes reflection gives you the illusion of having lived your life a thousand times over. It is not bad, and you are provided wonderful vistas, like travelling down a railway line through a beautiful meadow or mountain pass, but each time you past the same way, somehow or rather, the meadow is more beautiful and the mountain pass is more awe inspiring.

It is a necessary journey, it is a magnificent path. But just like you, I too sometimes miss my home with God and the Prophet, and would like to return soon. People are asking and speaking all sorts of things, and I do not think I can give what they desire. In times like this I turn to our God who has never rejected me, however wretched I have chosen to live my life.

I often complain about the warm nights we must suffer here in the tropics. But tonight it is especially chilly, and I dream of the warmth of a burial. When you see the earth piled into my grave, do not despair or feel sorrowful for me. For another everlasting door is finally turning upon its ancient hinge and my heart shall finally be whole, once again.

Do you understand what I am talking about, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

The Longest Goodbye for my Mother is my Longest Hello to God - Prose of Ramadhan Part 36

2. Died but not Dead I

It is six years,

And more than 2000 days

Since our mother passed on,

And to this day, her passing

Through the eaves of death

Is a matter for me to

Comprehend still.

How do you imagine his companions

Felt the day the Prophet passed on?

Poor Omar, feeling sick like a dog -

"Stop trippin’ me, man

He ain’t dead, stop trippin’ me, man

You are just being cruel, man…

In fact … I will CHOP OFF the head

Of the NEXT man who says that to me!"

2008. It was a solemn Syawal (the month following blessed Ramadhan) evening back in 2008, when the above prose was recorded. It is now almost 3 years since and still I am in the business of comprehending Mama's passing.

2002. My mother passed away in May of 2002, when she released her last breath with a prayer, "Dear Lord, shall You return the breath that I have just exhaled? You have been doing so for my past 67 years." To which God said, "No, my Arbayah, not this time. Your fight is over. I am proud of you. It is time to come home. To Me."

THE LONGEST GOODBYE. The instance of physical death is only one moment in time. But the spiritual passing of our beloved shall always be an endless horizon of moments. And to the furthest vista that my soul can see, my mother is still passing through me and my life. My mother's end is the longest goodbye for me. It makes me a little sad, to be honest with you. But it also makes me calm and contented as this rose which men call death slowly bloom one petal after another. Each petal a step towards understanding better the delicacy of God's love and the gravity of His Most Incredible concern for our spirit. So the longest goodbye for my mother is also my longest hello to God.

POOR OMAR. But I account for nothing, sunshine. I am simply an average sinner, and even this love I profess for my mother is nothing compared to the love the Companions of the Prophet had for him. When the Prophet also said farewell to his mortal coil those long years ago, the rumours spread like wildfire through Medina until it reached the ears of Umar the Magnificent Character. To put it mildly, dear Umar found it very difficult to believe the sad news. And how I do pity him in that moment... this Companion who would later become the 3rd Rightly Guided Caliph of all Islam.

MANY YEARS EARLIER IN MECCA. It is surely ironic and a fitting tale to recall that on the day Omar became the staunchest follower of Muhammad, he was actually on his way to kill the Prophet of God. "Trouble-maker!" Omar fumed, and thinking "I will rid Mecca of this pestilence once and for all!". How changed he was since that day. Love does that to people, you know. It changes you.

Today is sabbath, sunshine. Remember the Prophet and his beloved Omar. And remember our mothers too, always.

Pax Taufiqa.

Regret not Regret - Prose of Ramadhan Part 35

I love the ending! (But I am a little worried
that it is such a short book...)

Regret Not Regret (Continuation from The Clown and the Ringmaster 1 Click Here)

The clown then said to the Ringmaster – “If in the end, God has forgiven me, then all of my tears and regrets are for nothing!”

The old man thought for a while, then he replied “Everyone has a book of life. They have probably not read it, because it is in God’s own stash of books and magazines in the ‘thou shalt not enter’ section of Creation. In the book, which should appropriately be called “Your Life”, all the happenstances and occurrences of your short mortality is described in the sort of detail that only God can muster.

If you skip everything and only read the end of the book, you will find your happy ending – God has forgiven you and you will be raised with the Prophets and Saints who have authority over you.”

“I love the ending!” the Clown interjected.

The Ringmaster smiled, “Yes, but what about the chapters in between your birth and your death? It is not as if you can skip actually living and find yourself at the Pearly Gates. You have to live your life still, and don’t you want to be happy here? This is where regrets come into play. Regrets and tears are like speed bumps on the road. Drive too fast, live too wrongly and your car will be jolted when it hit the speed bumps of regret.   

Had regret not brought you to me, the story of God’s forgiveness would not have come to you. That made you happy, did it not? There is a good reason why God gave you the ability to feel contrite and regretful. It is all always for you to understand yourself and God better. So don't regret your regrets”

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

Something to ponder over your cup of life, my friends. (postscript, midnight - and boy, in my life have I had to learn to not regret my regrets. But we have to be thankful, yes? And then learn not to regret our not regretting our regrets. This can go on and on. Hehehe. I better stop now. Otherwise I might regret it later. Hehehe. Good night then.)

Pax Taufiqa

Our Obsessive Attachment to Our Heads is Curious... Considering We Don't Actually Own Them

247. Mortal accuracy

We are not bound in slavery

To mortal accuracy.

Not when it is the playing field

Of immortal contemplation,

Is where you and I meet,

Talk and play!

Not when our day is worth

The orbit of a thousand years

Around our Sun.

A day equaling a million days,

A second equaling to a millionth part of an eternity.

Accuracies are for archers and apples

Balanced on mortal heads.

And our apples and heads?

Hehehe.

We lost our heads long ago already…

I wouldn't like to be William Tell's son. If we lose our heads while looking for God, at least it was for a worthwhile activity. And anyway, our heads, torsos and limbs... they are only on loan and happily, one day God shall say, "Okay, Taufiq! Your time's up!", and we shall all have to discard our mortal skin, and return it to the soil from whence it came.

And what garment shall we be clothed in the hereafter? Well, I cannot tell you. Because I don't know the answer to that (yet).

I think it is good to leave some queries unresolved. It makes life interesting, yes?

Have a blessed Thursday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

An Ocean of Mercy in the Pacific

An Ocean of Mercy

I was asleep in the deepest of slumber,

Between the creation of the Pen

And the first sunrise upon

The mortal shore

Of my soul.

Awaken by my mother,
I turned away because

The Sun was too bright.

Yet I felt the Lord’s ocean

Lapping on my soil

A gentle ripple on

My naked skin.

I ignored the Ocean and

Its lessons, but I could not

Stop the sea from cleaving

Pieces of me apart

To show what lied

Underneath.

Within me I saw

A million years of

Contemplation,

The endless evenings

And the eternity of mornings

That preceded my birth…

As my ancestors contemplated the Ocean,

And Its joyous Mercies,

However much I try

To ignore the Ocean,

With each tide I perish a little

My doubts wither and brittle,

Confounding my skepticism

With each falling soil and clay

Into an unmarked watery grave,

As my senses uncoil

And my ego recoil

In the Reality

Of An Ocean of Mercy.

In the meeting place between our shore and the Ocean of Mercy is a garden of delight. It is perhaps intended to exist in the afterlife, in the hallowed Angelic realm of the Heavens. But the Angels are here, we are here and God is closer to us than our jugular, this much our spiritual lore tells us. So all parties concerned are here already, so I say let us plant our trees, plants and flowers for our hereafter here and now.

This Sabbath I strolled through my friend Peter's photo album. He was visiting another place, but his pictures took me somewhere else. Thank you, friend, for your inspiring vistas. May God inspire goodness and love within your heart and your family always.

Pax Taufiqa.

Universe and Her Extended Kisses at the Camel Saloon - And an Odorous Interlude

"...Someone bumped into
The amphora of light
leftover from the Angels' party
last night. It spilled over
The clouds and slipped into
My heart when I was
Not looking..."
The sinner is unwell today. I probably ate something wrong yesterday and am down with a stomach bug. But before this all started I managed to post a poem to the Camel Saloon yesterday morning of which the prose above is a short extract. If you would like to read the rest of the poem entitled 'Universe and Her Extended Kisses', CLICK HERE.
Sickness is a part of life. And getting diarrhea is also part of life. Especially if you are not careful with what you eat. It is good to get a little sick sometimes. I know I can be a pretty arrogant and condescending sod, but let's face it, everyone's s**t stinks, and the aroma always remind me thus, "Ah well... my s**t smells just as bad as anyone else. I am human after all." Humbled, you see.

I have been informed that in heaven our bowel movements are banned. So there will be no toilets in heaven... So how will we be reminded of our humanity? Because despite all our limitations and odorous ailments, I am really happy being human. For this, I would like to thank our Common Creator, aka God.

So to conclude, I would like to add that I am err... well and truly reminded of my humanity and mortality. So can You (God) please cut short this diarrhea interlude? I would really appreciate the divine favour.

Have a nice happy day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

I Have no Purpose for Love Unless it is to Love You

I Have No Purpose Unless…

Oh Lord, Oh Love…,

I have no purpose for life,
Unless it is to live for You,

I have no purpose for love,
Unless it is to love You,

I have no purpose for knowledge,
Unless it is to know You,

I have no purpose for words,
Unless it is to extol Your beauty,

I have no purpose for piety,
I leave that for those
Learned in Your theology,

I have no purpose for death,
Unless it is to meet You,
And to finally,
Meet me.

I wrote a long post about the financial market and the Subprime scandal. But before I could post it, the day turned into night. And at night, it is best to leave matters of rights and obligations aside and to focus on what God created the night for – LOVE.

I hope you like the above prose, pet. It’s brand new. It drifted into my heart while I was driving home.

Have a lovely evening, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

Only Reflection will Uncover Heaven - Pictures tell Stories (Near Sibu 2011)

I left my home, cradling my heart in my two warm hands,
I was in a foreign land, but I dismissed what I could see,
And instead looked at what I was treading beneath my dervish shoes,

A hangman’s noose,

The cold hard granite rock,

Wild mushrooms sprouting on a dead log,

A forgotten white bridge,

And when I finally looked up,
I could see the sky and the sea

And beneath me,
Heaven was lying at my feet.

It is nice to think about heaven. But try looking up for a long time, and you would end up with a creak in your neck, your eyes get all watery, and even your shoulders will feel tired. Consider the occupation of a sinner. They tend to keep their eyes lowered, but even beneath their steps, they could see life in all its glorious micro-detail, eclipsed in the beauty and mercy of God. And sometimes, if they are really lucky, they will come across a glimpse of love, reflected in their sorrowful yearning and homeless wandering. But they are not unhappy. In truth, they are in love. They are just acting unhappy.

I too am happy. Dreaming my way through my soulscape.

Have a perfect day, pet.

Pax Taufiqa.