THE DESERT IS COMING UNLESS WE CHANGE. BEGINNING WITH THE MOSQUE - The Ramadan Story, Part 10

My Paradise is My Mosque

There is no desert in my heart. 

For my land is a rainforest, full of tropical trees, flower and fauna. 

Green rivers and streams meander across my heart from the hills that dot my land. 

Valleys and ravines follow the water, clean and pure like the rain 

That showers regularly on the emerald roof of the jungle. 

Birds and mousedeers, tigers and elephants co-habitat, flowers, leaves 

And fruits of wondrous variety, colour and benefit hang from the branches 

Waiting for my eye and ministration. 

For I am not only the master of my heart and my land,

I am also its custodian and servant. 

My eyes takes rest and pleasure gazing on this Earth, 

Its riches spilling over into the tenuous civilization raised by Man. 

And were I to build a mosque here, a House of God, 

I would not build high walls to separate the mosque from the forest, 

Nor find the need to decorate it with the pictures of paradise. 

For my land is both my paradise and my mosque 

And wherever I am praying, 

I want to see heaven all around me.

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

God...?

From the Desert I Came. The religion of Islam is often associated with the desert. For it was in the desert dunes of Arabia that the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) completed the message and deen of Islam, thereby completing the comprehensive beliefs and rites that make up the faith. There is an old saying, which I cannot remember who said it, that God created the forest for Man, but created the desert for Himself. And I guess when you are thinking of setting the atmosphere for contemplation of Man's vulnerability and insignificance, nothing beats a night in the desert, alone with a billion stars twinkling in the heavens above. Questions like "Who am I?'', "Why am I here?" and "Who is out there?" will come to your heart as naturally as breathing.

The Arabian Heaven. The Umayyad Mosque in Damascus is not one of the three Great Mosques of Islam (the Masijidil Haram in Mecca, the Masjid Nabi in Medina and the al-Aqsa in Jerusalem), but in context of the End of Time sequence, it will play a significant role because it is here that Muslims anticipate the Second Coming of Jesus (Isa a.s.). But my interest in the Umayyad Mosque is not about its prophetic relevance, but the design. In particular, the interior walls on which is engraved with green and gold depictions of Paradise, of palm trees overflowing with dates, clear blue rivers of Jannah running through the gardens, and mansions and palaces on the hills for the believers. It is a religious propaganda (and I mean this well) and a spiritual assurance for the believers, as they pray, rest and learn beneath the pillars of the Mosque, a visual persuasion playing upon the Arab's ideal of paradise... "Ah, lovely, beautiful, inspiring..." they must be thinking.

The Tropical Paradise. But it is a little different here. For in Malaysia, as in most tropical and equatorial regions, there is no desert. There is no sand dunes or far-off desert horizons to inspire us. The forest and the jungle is right next door. And some of us ethnic aboriginals even live in the jungle. Tall rain forest trees of hundred years old tower over dense undergrowth. And through them run gentle streams and rivers full of fish, turtles and even alligators. Is this not paradise (well, sans the mosquitoes, alligators, tigers and leeches!) already? So even if you are expelled from your village, in days of yore, you would not starve to death. You will undoubtedly be inconvenienced, but you will live. (My little caveat here is that this might not be the case now for soft, fleshy city folks like me... I would probably misstep and fall into a ravine within hours. And get eaten by tigers. But you get the picture)

An Architectural Proposition for the Mosque. I am not an architect, so all I can venture is a proposition for an open concept Mosque which sits in sympathy with its tropical surroundings. It can be of any size, but the surroundings must be a tropical garden and a running stream drifting around the mosque and perhaps even through it. And the view from inside the mosque must rest upon the bountiful brilliance of the rain forest however far the congregation can see. The mosque must be built with wood and stone, with river pebbles shining darkly from the lower part of the walls while timbered pillars rise up to the wooden beamed roof. But from within the mosque, one ought to be able to see and hear the surrounding garden with its crickets and frogs. Especially at night. After all, the sound of nature is the sound of dzikr (recitation and remembrance of God's Names)

Shutting out Paradise. One of the reason why the proposition encompasses the outside surroundings of the mosque is because the truth is Muslims have been too lazy in caring and nurturing the environment. The mosque should not be a building to shut out the world and dream for paradise. Especially not in this tropical country. Not when just outside most mosques and suraus (small mosques), we find litter, pollution, environmental destruction and ecological disasters staring in the face of the Ummah (the Muslim nation). 

The Desert is Coming. So in reality are we shutting out the outside world because we cannot now bear to look upon the handiwork of our modern society on this paradise garden that we have been given? Are we turning our beautiful forests and jungles into deserts? If so, then we need not wait too long. The desert is coming if we do not change our ways.

Beginning with the Mosque. I reckon we can begin to accept our responsibility for the Earth this way - From the mosque, and if we believe in Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), from our conscience which must always be in sympathy for all of creation and all of God's creatures that we share this planet with. 

I think that this makes more sense than all the political and often violent upheavals that are presently besieging the Ummah. After all, what is the point of Islam in a world already despoiled and destroyed..? 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way  

THE SPARROW-ALHAMDULILLAH! - Friday the Blessed, the Sabbath for contemplation

It was Friday the Blessed yesterday, and you would find a sinner loitering outside the Mosque, finishing his cigarette before making his way in, a sinner amongst the pious, into the Mosque for ablutions and prayers.  

A Young Man Without Any Arms. Cars were parking illegally all over the place, as like on all Fridays, ordinary traffic regulations are not enforced so long as you do not actually block a road. A space opened by the pavement right in front of me and a small car slipped in. A Chinese lady came out of the driver seat and I was thinking to myself, "Huh, even the Chinese take advantage of Friday!" when suddenly from the front passenger seat, out jumped a young man and I literally jumped out of my skin, because he had no arms at all. He walked pass me with a spring in his step, as I continued to stare at him. He looked well-pleased with himself and I wanted to smile at him. He noticed me watching and we smiled at each other shyly. Dammit. He looked happy. He looked contented. How could he be, when he didn't have any arms?

So I knew, you see... that this Friday, the last Friday of the Holy Month of Sya'ban would be an extraordinarily good Friday.

The sparrow-Alhamdulillah

Alhamdulillah... Praise be unto God,

Alhamdulillah... Praise be unto God,

Alhamdulillah... Praise be unto God,

I recited, my voice spoke, my heart ignited,

Alhamdulillah... my soul sang and sent

All my Alhamdulillah to the spirits of the dearly departed,

To my Beloved Prophet and His beloved Family,

To His Companions and His Saints, alive and living,

Alhamdulillah... my spirit sang and sent

All my Alhamdulillah like a flock of sparrows in their thousands

Flying towards the beloved faces of my mother and father,

Towards my brothers, my uncles and aunties and all my cousins,

To all my nieces and nephews and all my friends and their children,

And as the flock arrived, they descended toward my beloveds,

And they begin to whirl round and round my beloveds,

The flock of sparrow-Alhamdulillah continued to encircle them,

A circumambulation of love around my beloveds,

Until a desire sparked in me and I found that I myself

Have become one of my own sparrow-Alhamdulillah,

...I could feel the wind rushing over my feathered wings

As I flew with scriptural speed around these familiar faces...
Whirling and spiraling like blue lightning,

...Oh mother! Oh father! Oh brothers! Oh my loves!

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

Have a wonderful Sabbath, sunshine. Keep your light on, remember Allah (s.w.t.) always and devote your life and love to His Beloved Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), His Anointed Mercy to all the Worlds.

From the strangest places and avenues do mercy come, and yesterday it began with a disarming smile from a young man with no arms. May Allah bless him always... for the journey ended in the flight of the sparrow-Alhamdulillah!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

Everything is a Blessing. Even Forgetfulness - and an observation of a dog by a dog

I call him Katmir, after the loyal dog of the Seven Sleepers as
mentioned in the Holy Quran.

A Dog. Am I better than this dog? He's a couple of years old, born from a stray bitch that is also a familiar face around my office. Unlike some human-friendly dogs, he was not a family pet and then abandoned. But he has adopted the denizens of the Chinese kopitiam (coffeehouse) under my office, and they have adopted him. He stays close to the shop entrance, waiting for scraps and since the proprietor serves a myriad of dishes, he gets a pretty varied diet. A gentle tail-wagging creature, he often sits at the entrance of my office but would get out of the way anytime I come through. He is a good dog, he is. And I think he is a better dog than me.

Forgetfulness. A screeching hectoring voice came over the p.a. system of the mosque last Friday. It was one of those pre-Friday prayers tazkirah (mini-sermon, I guess...). I don't like screeching hectoring anything at the mosque so I grumble quietly under my breath, 'Bisingnye!' (Why so loud!). But as the ustaz (religious teacher) continued, I found his form and repartee quite engaging and funny. I found most interesting was his saying that we should not feel too bad if we forget. For as in everything that God has given to humanity, even this apparent weakness of forgetfulness is a divine gift. And as someone who beats his own head up a lot for forgetting (forgetting my car keys, forgetting my wallet, forgetting my reason... when I am in love), I was interested to hear what further things he had to say about my forgetfulness...

"God gave Mankind forgetfulness so He can have an excuse to forgive you, my friends!" the ustaz said. "After all, we forget to pray sometimes, we forget to fast and all sorts of promises that we made to God... in fact we do it all the time! If we were like Angels, made perfect in remembrance, we would be unpardonable. But we are not made thus, we are made to forget all manner of things... our tax returns, our wife's birthday and even our anniversary. So God who made us is best aware of our weakness and is most forgiving to us. But our wives? He he he... wives are not so forgiving. 

So it is okay if you forget somethings sometimes. But of course, you should not forget everything! And definitely not your wife's  birthday!"

Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. I woke up this morning with a bright clear head. I hope you did too.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

POSTURES IN PRAYERS. GOD IS GOOD TO ME - Pictures tell Stories

Going...

Going...

Barely keeping upright...

Going... (Ooh... I am so tired...)

Leaning back now... (Much better! This is more comfortable!)

And now... horizontal  (alhamdulillah...)

And finally... Bliss. (God is good to me)

Mikhail has been rather keen to visit the mosque for prayers of late. Heche says that he would be pleased to go wherever I go. So note to self: Go to good places and avoid not so good places.

In the song, 'We are the Champions' by Queen there is part that goes "...We are the champions... No time for losers... 'cause we are the champions of the world." Just before sleep time one night, Mika shared with me his disagreement with the song and that we cannot have any time for losers. And I agreed, after all if there are winners and champions, there are bound to be losers. And at some point in our lives we have lost and are losers ourselves. Thank God for God and His Prophet who always has time for us losers, then...

The pictures here was taken one early morning prayers at the mosque. Mikhail was resolute to 'see how things are in the mosque for dawn prayers...' So despite it being a school day, he got up at 5.30am (after some prompting) and zombie-like headed to the washroom to perform the pre-prayer ablutions (wuduq). When we arrived at the prayer hall, he first observed that there are not that many people there compared to maghrib (sunset) prayers. This is not surprising since the maghrib congregation is augmented by people who work around Bukit Damansara, who sometimes pray here before heading back home. But I guess Mikhail was most surprised by having to wait 20 minutes before the jemaah (congregational) prayers was actually started. This is partly because the Imam of the Mosque is waiting for more people to arrive. But by 6.25am the prayers began, much to the relief of Mika and myself, because I have to rush him back home for him to shower and dress for school. I normally drop him off at his school at about 7.00am, you see. 

I am not much of a dad. But I am trying to learn. And when my knowledge and my own habits fall far short of a good father (as it often does), I take some solace that even before he was born, I recognised this reality and asked for the succour of God and guide of His Most Beloved Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), the Companions and the Saints. Thus I recorded more than 9 years ago...

189. Ward Of The State Of Friends

Knowing himself unworthy,

The father,

In anxiety,

Declares the child

Ward of the State of Friends,

A pupil of Angels,

Before the child ever

Breathed his first.

And so far? Alhamdulillah... God has been good to me. And to Mikhail.

Have a beautiful Sabbath, sunshine. 

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

PLAYGROUND OF THE SOUL - chance encounter with a servant of Peace

Playground of the Soul

This is not just a mosque,

This is no mere house of worship...

This is a playground of the soul,

A garden of the spirit

To seed and till your happiness...

This is where you will see flowers

Rise, bloom and fall

In all hours of the day, 

Enchanted by the Lord's heavenly call.

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

Last night, as I was making my way to intercept young Ustaz Malik (the man with the golden voice), I was suddenly waylaid by an elderly gentleman. He introduced himself as Abdul Salam (Servant (Abdul) of He Who is the Source of Peace, Safety and Perfection (Salam, one of the Divine Names of God)). 

Being the forgetful dummy that I am, I cannot recall his face although he says that he has seen me around our neighbourhood. When we embraced I felt a burning warmth when his cheek touched mine. In my fanciful retrospection, I felt that it was the warmth of love.

So nothing to report but the chance meeting with kindly affectionate strangers in the Playground of the Soul. 

Have a lovely day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Baghdad in Singapore, 'Development' in Mecca - work, heritage, religion and of course... food!

I went down to Singapore again for some legal work last weekend. I may gripe and bitch, I may moan and sigh, but truth be told, I like working. It gives me a sense of purpose, an urgency that is sometimes missing in my life. Sometimes it is a telephone call from a customer that actually wakes me up from my mid-morning 'oh-what-am-I-gonna-do-now' procrastination. But don't tell my customers that... they might want a legal fee rebate.

We had problems telling the Singaporean clientele where to meet us. "700 Beach
Street..." We said, and they would normally ask, "Yes la... but what is the name of
the building?" The name of the office tower is actually 700 Beach, being also the address.
Funny how things that should make life simpler ends up making it
a little more complicated. He he he.

But it was not all work of course. After a tiring but well-sorted day, we headed down to the Arab Street locality of Singapore. And I took some pictures also...

Alex, our head of property and banking. Awake until 2.00am sorting out the
contracts and signing schedules for tomorrow's session. I could barely keep my
eyes open by then. Over the weekend we sorted out 39 signings with an approximate
contract value of a hair below RM40 million. Our client would be happy.

Next morning, if you are a local of Jalan Sultan, you would find me at a restaurant
called The Sultan's Kitchen. If it was anywhere else in the world, such an outlet
would probably be selling Indian Muslim, Arab or Turkish food. But as it turns out
it was entirely Chinese. I had a strong cup of coffee to wake me up. As I sat outside
I saw an old Chinese man making his round collecting cans of soft (and hard) drinks
at the garbage bins outside for recycling money. It is a poignant reminder that even
in this very rich city state, there is poor among us, always. I think Jesus said that.
So that is my Jesus thought for the day.

In the evening, we walked the famous Arab Street, and wandered into the small
alleys and side streets nearby. We found a Haji Lane. And it was one way, so
we made our way as per the arrow...

There appears to be something going on down there. House techno music were
booming and crowds of people were mingling. This calls for further investigation
of two men with some time to spare in this city of lions.

People (mostly young kids and two weather-beaten lawyers) were standing around
shuffling and dancing in that I-don't-really-know-how-to-dance-but-I-will-fidget
-a little-so that-people-will-think-I-may actually-know-how-to-dance sorta way.
I call it the zombie shuffle. There was also a depressing realization by myself that me
and Alex were probably the oldest geezers in the vicinity. But Alex didn't mind at all.
Alex is a man with no emotions whatsoever.

I really wanted to get up close to take some shots of that fancy turntable that
the DJs were playing with. But I was too shy and this is the closest I approached
the Red-Bull sponsored street music team.

Who says there is no old culture in Singapore? Alex reckon that this cozy little
neighbourhood would soon be demolished to build towering condo apartments,
shopping malls and office blocks. But I don't think so. I really don't believe that the
Singaporean government (being the overbearing super micro-managing behemoth
that is is) is the kinda of organization that would overlook a neighbourhood to be
developed. For what it's worth, they have actually encouraged (and enforced) a
time-capsule in this Bugis district. So you would still find quaint old shops with
quaint old entrance and grill. I like.

And in the centre of it all is the Sultan Mosque, a declared national monument
(and still operating mosque) since 1976. In Mecca, the Arabs have gone ahead to
annihilate the old hotels and small street shops around the Masjidil Haram (where
resides the Holy Kaaba) to build grandiose hotels, shopping malls and a gigantic
clock tower overlooking the Muslim world's number one place and focus of worship.
Again, ironic how the secular Singaporeans know better how to treat their Sultan Mosque.

We finally ended up here before heading back to the hotel. This little itsy bitsy
tea shop is reputed to sell the best cheap milk tea in Singapore. But I must report
that I cannot agree with such an assessment. The Kampong Glam restaurant across
the street serves better tea. But then again, that is my taste...

For supper I bought curry puff (or karipap in our dialect), a pastry
with curried chicken and potato fillings. It was a bit bland for our
Malaysian tongue. There is Alex, looking in disbelief at the size of
the karipap. And truly the proportion of this humble street food was
a wonder to behold. As we stood up to walk back, a stranger passed by and
said that we shouldn't waste food like that, because we still left some karipap
on the plate. Alex actually brought back the leftover to eat as
we walked back.

You dont' have to go to Baghdad to get to Baghdad Street.
On the way back to our budget accommodations to rest.

I haven't written for a couple of days already. Alhamdulillah, I am happy to be in Kuala Lumpur. Singapore was fun and interesting (which is good because it looks like I may have to go down again this coming weekend), but there is of course no place like home. 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

What Stylish Gentlemen Are Wearing to Go Clubbing Nowadays - the Mosque and the Sufis(that's you, sunshine)

Well... you cannot blame me for sketching these two particular attires because of my
woolly-headed admiration for the Naqshbandi and Mehlevi Sufi Tariqas.
But you know... to each his/her own. Wear whatever you want, sunshine
so long as it has style and is cool. Even if nobody else does,
I am sure that God and the Prophet appreciates your effort
to look good and smell nice. Hehehe.

The Mosque. 

It makes sense you know... what I am suggesting. Well, it makes sense in the olden golden days of Islam. If going clubbing is essentially going to a place that leaves you feeling breathlessly happy and enraptured, then to the mosque we shall go for the heart-beating Mawluds (salawat and songs in praise of God and the Prophet). And if you want to witness two fantastic teams in the context of two grand masters of the Tariqa discoursing (that's debating politely) on transcendental truths, then to the mosque we shall again go, like football fans going to a Wembley Stadium finals. And if you want intellectual and spiritual gratification, again you go to the mosque to listen to and read about the advances in the sciences of astronomy, physics, biology, chemistry, medicine, psychology and the arts. And if you are looking for the best food, why visit restaurants when the richest philanthropists and the best cooks are donating their money and talents at the mosque? And if you are severely depressed and needing counsel, which Befrienders are better than the open-minded and tolerant wise men that habitually visit the mosque?

A big mosque in Kuala Lumpur.

Where is the Beauty? Where is the Love? Where is the Mercy?

Or is your mosque not like this at all? Is your mosque boring? Full of hide-bound rules-bound stony-hearted men (and women)? Is your mosque totally bereft of music and Mawlud? Is it just full of posters tacked up on the walls telling you what you are prohibited from doing (or dressing)? And really, is the young absent from the congregation? Where are the young teens and professionals? Of course, they are out at the clubs, the restaurants and the sport stadiums... because what is beautiful in the mosque does not exist there at this point in time.

If it is boring in the mosque, then un-boring it. But to do that, you gotta be there.

It is up to us. 

Whose fault is it? The mosque committee? The Wahabbis / Salafis or the Political-Islam reformists that fill up the Saf (row of prayers)? If we think that we are not represented, then surely it is beholden upon us to represent ourselves. So go to the mosque today, sunshine, and share the Love, without judgment on anyone.

Mikhail, in his constant struggle to remain awake during the Friday sermon. Poor kid.
But I don't blame him really. 

Have an awesome possum day. And bring some of your smiles and sunlight into the mosque...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

You are here again. Is it because you love Me?

The Meaning of Praying

Ho seeker! Said the Lord,

What are you doing here?

You are not obliged to talk to Me

Until the next cycle…

Do you miss talking to Me?

Do you miss My nearness?

Do you miss being free with your feelings?

Do you miss the intimacy you share with Me

Which you cannot share with any other?

Do you miss the hymn, the meaningful pauses

And gentle silences?

Oh, you noticed, did you?...

The carpet and curtain of flowers

That I drew for you when you stepped

Out of My mosque?

Oh, you saw, did you? ...
The yellow blooms falling gently

And you wondered, “Is this a farewell for me?”

You were obliged to come to My House,

But no obligation is compelling you now,

So why are you here?

Is it because you think you Love me?

…………………

The meaning of Sembahyang / Solat

It is difficult to talk without pretense. For our multi-layered personality manifests itself in what we speak. It is not that we wish to talk falsely, but as human beings we are quite good at misguiding ourselves. So even if we speak the truth, it may not be the whole truth.

Manifestation of the Complete Truth is only before The Truth

It is only before Truth Himself that the whole truth of what we say and the whole truth of who we are, manifest itself. For one of the known attributes and names of God is al-Haqq, meaning The Truth. Yes, we do confide our happiness and sadness, our problems and successes with a beloved, be it a mother, a father, a BFF (best-friends-forever), mate or spouse. But he or she will not read the complete truth, for he or she is not God. 

Natural as Breathing

Perhaps that is why people of any religion, when they bow, kneel or prostrate themselves before God, hold praying in the highest of regards. For them, it is not a chore nor a ritual. It is as natural as breathing. And that, I think, is the essence of the perfected faith.

Umar al-Khattab Mosque, Bukit Damansara

The Perfect Host of the Spiritual Feast

As a Muslim, a sembahyang / solat (sembahyang is the Malay word for prayers, in Arabic it is solat, we use them interchangeably) is like accepting a keen invitation – obligatory because there is nothing finer that you can do for those brief minutes you spend in prayers to God. It is an invitation to an intimate soiree, and sometimes, when you are praying in a group, God as the Perfect Host has even designated a singer, the Imam (leader) in front of the congregation, to recite in melodious harmony the poetry in perfection that is the Quran. At this feast, spiritual food has been prepared and perfected for anyone to partake. And there is no end to the dishes for your delicate tastebuds – Dishes refined in Divine Love, Beauty, Poetry, Compassion, Tolerance, Friendship and Servanthood. A compelling spiritual menu for any human being hungry for spiritual succor. That is the meaning of Sembahyang / Solat to me. Alas, how can it be any other way when your Host is God Himself?

Well, this is my understanding of prayers at this point anyway. Tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps it will get better and better. I hope so too...

God bless you, sunshine. May you find solace and joy in your pious rituals, however you may pray to the One God that we all share.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Afternoon at al-Aqsa - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 12

The courtyard of the Dome of the Rock was a garden of Olives. As I walked pass slowly (not in deference but in exhaustion and jetlag) I could see school children playing and ancient Arab women making their way to the Dome. As it turned out, there was a women's prayer and study circle going on in the Dome. But we were permitted in anyway since we came a pretty long distance to get here - They came all the way from malaysie...!

The Dome of the Rock.

.

The Dome of Taufiq next to the Dome of the Rock. My Dome is growing bigger as my hairline fights a losing battle against my ever growing forehead. The Dome of the Rock, as far as I am aware is still the same size since the day it was completed by Caliph Abd al-Malik in 687 AD - about half a century after the passing of Muhammad, Prophet of God.

.

I lost my group. But all these contratemps and happenstances mean little when I am resting my back against a column that's probably more than 1,000 years old. It makes you think, doesn't it? And it makes you hungry, yes? It doesn't? Well it did for me. By now, I was already conspiring to leave the others to wander around the city on my own. Rushing from one holy place to another is just not my thing. I need to feel the place.

.

The al-Aqsa Mosque is very big and has a very high timber ceiling. During the zuhr (afternoon) prayers, the congregation was rather small, filling up only a small section of the mosque.

The al-Aqsa Mosque stands one level down from the Dome of the Rock. It has a dome too, which is grey in colour. The distance between the two holy sites must be about 200 plus metres, but both are contained within the same compound and surrouded by ancient sandstone walls. We saw a patrol of Israel soldiers pass by. Later, Saiful (a companion) mentioned to me that as these soldiers were entering into the holy prescint they saw him and greeted him with asalamualaikum, and not the normal hebrew shalom.

.

From any angle, the Dome of the Rock draws your attention. Each stone step, each pillar, each golden leaf upon the Dome must have a story to tell. Where I fail, I hope that you, sunshine, will be able to visit the Dome one day and continue where I left off.

I did indeed leave the group after the prayers. WIth my aching feet and terminal lack of sleep, I simply could not go on. Little did I know that Jerusalem was not done with me yet, and the afternoon would end up with me meeting an old Arab gentleman by the name of Abu Ayob and a trip to a his village. But that is another story for tomorrow.

Thank you, sunshine, for listening to my wandering tale in the Land of the Prophets.

Pax Taufiqa.

No Division in Knowledge, and Disbelief is a Servant of God

When God created, it is to teach man about himself, about the world that surrounds him and how it interconnects to the singular Beauty that is God. Thus, the world is like a classroom and it is only ONE classroom. And your short life is essentially only ONE period of a day in school. And in that period you are to learn all that is needed to be learned for you to find God, peace and happiness. Teachers come in different hats carrying different books but ultimately they are teaching you from one single source - God the Loving Himself. But man are easily confused with labels of knowledge and it is sad that...

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The division of knowledge
Between spiritual knowledge
And physical knowledge is
The biggest lie swallowed
By modern man.

The boss of your office, the headmaster of your school, and some priests of your church, mosque or synogogue will draw the line between the material and the spiritual practises - Saying they are not the same. Yet the truth is known to other priests, and they would confide in you that...
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The division of life
Between secular habit and
Spiritual ritual is another
Whopper of a lie often
Swallowed by man.

I say this, because the Universe is conspiring to tell us every freakin' moment that...

Your Lord has no divisions,
He is One and unto Him
There is no partition.
All things, all creatures
And all occurrences
Bear witness to this,

To bring you, me and the cat named Moses to this truly fascinating conclusion, that...

Ultimately, there
Can be no real disbelief,
For even disbelief
Is a creation and
Servant of God.

Have a perfect Saturday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa

Related post - Richard Dawkins is not Godless, the Essence of Belief and Disbelief, and a Bagel.

A Loosely Tied Turban, a Glossary and We Rock 4 Mustafa!

23. The Turbaned Bum

While others travel from maqam to maqam

I am Maulana’s own irresolute bum

What the real murids speak of, I cannot tell

I am only trying to tie my turban well.
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(From the 1st Chapter entitled ‘The Dam.SunSun.Ana’)

- Glossary -

‘Glossary’ – compilation of technical terminology and meaning. What you are reading now, it’s a glossary.

‘Maqam’ – Normally it means a grave, tomb or a burial chamber. But in this poetic context it is intended to mean a spiritual station. So you are suppose to be traveling (upwards hopefully) from one spiritual station to another. (Dear reader - I have lost my ticket on the spiritual train, and I see the ticket man ambling down the aisle. Can you hide me somewhere? I am fat but very bendable)

‘Bum’ – that’s me.

‘Turban’ – the extended cotton cloth which them Sufis would tie around their pointy hats. There is a name for the pointy hat, but I cannot recall being told what it is. I just call it ‘pointy hat’.

‘Murids’ – that’s plural for murid. Murid is a student, apprentice or management trainee of a tariqa order. There was once a time when you have to be teetering on the brink of sainthood before they let you into one of the orders. And now? Well, now the gate of the tariqa is left open and unlocked. All sorts of riffraff and never-do-wells get in now. Hehehe.

‘Maulana’ – a term of respect used by the murids for the big boss of the sufi order. They often use it in a bid to mitigate for their disobedience and lack of commitment like “Maulana…, I didn’t know any better….” or “Ya Maulanaaa…, I have been a baad murid!”. Do they say it to him personally face-to-face? Hehehe. What do you think?

‘Mustafa’ – one of the divine name/title/epithet for the Prophet Muhammad. It means the Chosen One, Lordly etc… It is not for the poem, but for the para below. I am a thorough and details-oriented guy, I am. But if you don’t like me, you will say I am a manic obsessive.

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- End of Glossary -

The scene depicted in the cartoon actually happened you know. Not in the privacy of my home, but after Friday prayers at the mosque. I think I was performing a superogatory prayer when my massive turban started peeling off and curling down my body in a graceful spiral. I was quite embarrassed and totally lost focus in my prayers. Many others were also distracted by my spectacle. I am sure I heard a chuckle or two behind me.

Am I a murid? My brother says we are just groupies. I agree. We are like irresolute hanger-ons and monkey boys, pilfering drinks, bongs and babes actually reserved for the Rock Band. What is the name of the Rock Band? Why haven’t you heard?… They are called ‘WEROCK4MUSTAFA’.

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Hehehe. WEROCK4MUSTAFA is actually a parallel project i am running together with this blog. Its still w.i.p. but I hope to kickstart it soon. Busy bee in a bonnet I am.

Have a great day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.