WE WANT TO BE NIGHTINGALES, SO WHY DO WE CROW? ... contemplation of a spiritual amoeba.

The Nightingale in the Night

Sing to the Lord, about the Lord,

Sing to the Lord, about His Prophet, 

That is enough for you and me,

To be nightingales singing in the night,

Whether alone or in

A happy company... 

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

There is good and bad in the social network. But sometimes I feel like giving up the ghost in Facebook. Were it not for like-hearted souls, long would I have abandoned FB.

Crowing. Sometimes we are more like crows than nightingales. All too often I read public comments in postings and tweets, about some celebrity or public personality, changing their lifestyle, changing their dressing, growing a beard and now wearing a hijab (for women that is, he he he). "Good... good!" People are saying, "Good! Finally, he/she has received the inspiration..." I guess such comments are sincere but I cannot but taste a little bit of crowing in the comments. A little bit of 'Ah, I told you so!" in the tone. Because you see, if these are the thoughts that we entertain, then how are we not at least a trifle patronising or condescending? 

What do we know of the trials and tribulations that another soul faces? What do we truly know of their strengths and weaknesses? 

Sadly it is too common that in our commentaries we disclose our prejudices and hidden pride. So quick to claim our rightness, not directly, but by insinuations and innuendoes. 

I am sure that I myself have revealed many of my own biases and prejudices. But I am just taking baby steps... so when I falter, help me, sunshine! Pray for this spiritual amoeba!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

-Notrumi Embun, 11th June 2014.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

MOST GLORIOUS (AND THE GLORY IN THE NIGHT)

Most Glorious

I know of hemlock that I may know of bees and their honey,

I know what is wrong that I may do what is right,

I know pain and illness that I may receive relief and comfort,

I know the brightness of day that I may keep by His side through the night,

I know of illiteracy and ignorance that I may receive His Holy Words,

I know of evil that Man do that I may see God's Own Goodness,

I know the bland and dull that I may see His Most Wonderous

Speaking to me in tongues too subtle for men to record,

About Him, His Mercy, He, our God

At His Most Glorious!

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

Everything is known by their opposites. And this is good news for me as a sinner (and perhaps for you too), for I have sown my sins and tilled the field of my ignorance. I have spread darkness across the horizon of my own world till it has gone all dark. As if the night of my negligence was not dark enough, I have poured into the sky, the blackest ink from my pen. 

But now that the dark is getting darker, the sky is getting blacker, I can see the Light shining brighter, and the stars of His Muhammad (saws) and the Companions (ra) radiating brighter and brighter. 

It's a karma thing. He he he.

Tahajjud. My ancient friend tells me that "When you wake up in the middle of the night, know that Allah (swt) is calling on you to an intimate congress with him. Take your wuduk (physical and spiritual ablution) and perform the tahajjud (nightly prayers). And see where the Glory in the Night will take you..." 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

-Notrumi Embun, 9th July 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show you the Way

SUBTLY, ESSENTIALLY, PAINFULLY BEAUTIFUL

A Pen Full of Raindrops

My Love is in the falling rain,

He tells me to stay awake 

And to come out into the night,

My Love is in the sleepless twilight,

Beneath starlight eaves with

Columns of white light

From the prayers of men, 

My Love is filling my pen

With raindrops as countless

As my sins...

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

I am a rainy fellow. I love the rain, and when I heard the heavy patter of rain on the roof, I know that I cannot stay in. Not when the black night outside is suddenly alive with His Merciful rain. So much for my plans for an early night. He he he. I am sure God plans best of all.

Earlier tonight I asked myself if I know Islam. And I am quite sure I do not know anything much, if anything at all. In fact, I am beginning to suspect that Islam is much, much more vast than even my wildest imaginings can imagine. Islam is far, far more wondrous than any wonder that man has ever built. And it is beautiful. It is subtly, essentially, painfully beautiful. For it hurts your heart's eye even to glance but for awhile into Islam's forge of love, where words and deeds are hone in the white fire of Divine Love... syariat... tariqat, hakikat... makrifat...

What do these words even mean? I am stealing words from the library of the saints, knowing nothing of their meanings. 

What has meaning to me is the rain. Little pools of mercy and blessings on the ground now that the rain has left. Many people will be asleep not even realising this. God's blessing whether we are good or bad, whether we are awake or asleep. So what do we have to complain about? Nothing. And what do we have to be grateful for? Everything.

Let us discard the garbs of knowledge, thinking ourselves as 'knowing' our religion. There is no knowing or owning of anything in this world. There is only God Almighty, and there is His Beloved Habibullah (saws). Everything, and anything else are just shadows on the wall, transient ripples in the ocean. 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

-Notrumi Embun, 8th July 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE HADRA... Immortals whirl and Nightingales sing!

The Hadra

You see guitars, drums, clarinets and cellos,

But I see instruments of worship with sounds hallowed,

You hear pop songs and think they sound wrong,

But I hear echos of choirs and heavenly songs,

You see kids jumping and dancing mad,

But I see bright young souls yearning

For the Hadra they never had

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

The Hadra. According to the Wiki.. "Haḍra (Arabic: حضرة‎) is a collective supererogatory ritual performed by Sufi orders. It is often held on Thursday evenings after the night prayer, on Fridays after Jum`a prayer or on Sunday evenings, and can also celebrated on special Islamic festivals and at rites of passage. It may be held at home, in a mosque, in a Sufi hospice or elsewhere. The term in Arabic literally means "presence"..."

Whirling Calling Praising

Whirling, whirling, whirling,

Words pour out of mortal hearts,

Calling, calling, calling,

Prayers stumble from human lips,

Praising, praising, praising,

While the tired pass the night in sleep

Immortals whirl and Nightingales sing,

Drinking the Ocean timeless and deep!

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

I have been out of touch with the band of dervishes that make their spiritual home not far from my house. Been busy, ya' know.... with dunya (worldly) matters. He he he.

Missing Kuching. The pictures above however are not from my neighbourhood, but was taken in Kuching, Sarawak on the island of Kalimantan/Borneo. I was there in February this year for the funeral and tahlil of a good man.

Many things in my life have turned and changed in the course of these past couple of months. I wanted to write about them now but strangely it is The Hadra that is written instead.

Perhaps there is a reason that I am unaware of. But sometimes it is okay not to follow too closely the clouds that pass through our thoughts... after all, we are just sinners here.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

THE COMFORTER, THE MOON AND THE ANSWER - three mirrors of contemplation...

The Comforter. I am most comfortable with my Love for He knows me and my answers. He misses not one nuance in my words, though I may miss it myself. So while others may judge me too quickly, He would not. "Ah, Taufiq... " my Love would say, "I know you too well..." That is my God. How is yours? Is He not one and the same?

The Moon. Tonight the moon is so close to Earth that I think I may find someone sitting under it, holding a rope to the Moon. The man I imagine would smile and say, "Speak BismillahirRahmaniRahim* and climb."

The Answer. To most questions that you may ask me tonight, I may reply yes or no. Stay or go. Do or do not. And both types of answers are valid and feasible. For I cannot create your world for you. So marry her or leave her! Migrate or stay put. Choose the coffee or the tea! Choose envy or choose me! For in this journey the end is not as important as me! Who am I? Let the speaker be clear... for I am 'Me' - the Delight of your Soul if you but knew a little of you. There is the beginning of your journey.

Have a lovely Wednesday, sunshine. The air is a little clearer today, alhamdulillah (God be praised!).

wa min Allah at-taufiq

*In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE ADAB OF THE NIGHTINGALE & THE MUREED - The Prince Part 28

The Adab of the Nightingale and the Mureed

One night I saw a nightingale and a mureed take flight,

The nightingale flew with a pair of dull-feathered wing,

But the mureed flew with the wings of knowledge and love,

But the flying itself? The flapping of the wings 

And catching the draft and the wind?

That was the adab of the nightingale and the mureed!

And though neither disclosed this secret to me

In song or sermon,

Their flying adab was eloquent in its confession.

This I witnessed that night, 

In the flight of the nightingale and the mureed

To Hu knows where across His Mercy Ocean...

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

al Fatiha...

One year ago today, almarhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah ibni Sultan Azlan Shah (q.s.) passed on from the cage of this physical world. This afternoon I myself passed my Sabbath at Istana Iskandariah in the royal town of Kuala Kangsar, Perak for Shaykh Raja's tahlil (prayers for the deceased) and mawlud (remembrance and praise for God (s.w.t.) and His Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.s.). Having never been there before, it was an eye-opener for me.

Across a blue sea of turbans, I watched as the mureeds (students) sang praise of the Prophet (s.a.w.s.) in loving dedication and memory for their beloved Shaykh Raja. For these fine fellows (and gals) the anniversary of their Shaykh's passing is not just a time of remembrance, but also celebration. And they did it wonderfully under the presence of Shaykh Bahauddin Adil, who flew in from Cyprus to grace this occasion for his spiritual brother...

This was how I have been spending my Sabbath. How was yours, sunshine? I pray it was good too!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Abraham, the Inferno & The Hummingbird - every little bit helps...

Every little bit helps...

When the Prophet Abraham was flung into the burning inferno, many animals took pity and wanted to save him, especially itsy-bitsy ones like ants and small birds like the hummingbird. One little hummingbird hurried to the nearest stream and brought with its beak a tiny bead of water. It then flew over the inferno and let the water drop fall. But even before it reached the highest flickering flames, the water evaporated.

Bigger birds nearby laughed and scoffed at the hummingbird, saying, "See what good your efforts did!? The water vanished before it could douse the smallest flame of the mighty inferno!" But the hummingbird was undaunted and it said, "Perhaps. But when I die, and verily we shall all one day die, from the smallest bird to the mightiest condors and eagles, and when our Lord questions me, for surely He shall do so -"O' little hummingbird! When My Prophet Abraham was in the scorching fire, what did you do?" Then I shall be able to reply, "O' Lord and Creator of birds and Your winged angels, within my little ability, I did what I could to save Your Prophet!" And verily, my reward will be in His Giving. What shall your reward be for ignoring the plight of a Prophet of God?"

Tough talk for a hummingbird.

So be nice to ants and birds. Especially little birds like hummingbirds and nightingales. And do not let the daunting problems of this world (hunger, poverty, environment, economic crisis, war, ... to name but a few)  discourage you from trying to help. Every little bit helps, you know... especially to God.

Oh, and about the Prophet Abraham's fiery problem... he was ultimately saved from the inferno. But that is a story for another posting.

Have a lovely day, sunshine. May you see a nightingale soon. (It is difficult to find them nowadays...)

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Leave your Home and take the Nightingale with you - Runes for Wanderers

The Spell of the Nightingales

If you have the blessing

Of a nightingale flying

Into your house

And making your home

Its own abode,

You will be graced

With heavenly music.

And when heavenly music

Is being sung, the very cosmos

reins to listen for awhile,

Bringing the universe

Into your house.

But if by your carelessness

You set your home on fire,

You do not let the nightingale

Lie trapped, hoping that it

Would sing and call the rain.

No, you must save the nightingale instead

And leave your home.

For now that you have

The mightiest singer,

And now that you are

Named in a poem,

Wherever the nightingale sings,

There shall always be your home.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Flower on Fire, Glory of the Garden,

FLOWER ON FIRE

Flower on fire,

Flaming white,

Soul in desire

Lost in pride.

Flower on fire,

In plain sight,

A secret nightingale

Born in flight.

Flower on fire,

Burning at night,

Love and potion,

Pride has died.

Flower on fire

In burning alchemy,

Calling man to God

With living poetry.

Flower on fire,

Mercy to creation,

Glory of the garden,

Prose of compassion.

'tis a beautiful Sabbath, sunshine. Enjoy your day.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Letters in the Sand and Nightingales in the Trees - you make make the world better

15. Letters in the Sand

All that I know I have read

From letters written in the sand,

Impermanent, transient

And soon lost to the surf and the rising tide.

But that is enough

To make this world now

Alien and strange to me.

Yet no matter how I try,

I cannot decipher the language

Of the birds nor the rustling leaves,

Those sonnets of praise,

Unplugged from the deaf sickness

That afflicts man.

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

My dear readers,

I am informed that the world in its entirety speaks and praises God. One of my most favourite sound is the sound of leaves and branches rustling in the wind. I find it sweet that the wind needs the trees for us to hear its voice. In return the wind helps to spread the pollen and seed of the trees.

Praises sprung from nature is perfect, but man is a totally different category altogether. We have a choice, and the choices we make either sharpens our hearing or makes us a little (or totally) deaf to the Music of the Universe, Love.

I write about about love. But I am just a scribe. I am actually writing about you and your life. Your endless hours in contemplation, when you walked into my heart and left letters on the shore of my soul. My friend, do not think that you are living your life unnoticed and ineffectual. Every little iota of goodness, every little gesture of kindness and every little thought of compassion we note down. Continue to make a change, sunshine. Even if by doing so, you are making me alien to the illusory world of hate and fear that common mass media perpetuates out of habit and profit.

You make it all worth it. So have a good day, and fill your day with goodness. I will jot them all down, and make a fine story for God the All-Loving. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Love is Stirring my Cup of Storm, Pouring Tea of Make Believe

Love is pouring tea of make believe

Love is stirring my cup of storm,

Pouring tea of make believe -

That love can change my everything,

That love will lure you back to me.

Love is stirring my cup of storm,

Serving tea of make believe -

That right and good shall always prevail,

Through tempest snow, through rain and hail.

Love is stirring my cup of storm,

Making tea of make believe -

That Love is watching over us

Since the day we breathe our first.

Love is stirring my cup of storm,

Pouring tea of make believe -

That Love made reign His kingdom be

If only mankind would still believe.

Another night that I am unable to sleep, sunshine. And this time, I am unable to even blame my friend Longhair. This time, Love is stirring my cup of storm, and perhaps by recording this little prose, Love shall calm the waters of my soul, and gently rest my soul to sleep. How can I say this, without appearing impolite or ungrateful - Please, Love.... I need my sleep!

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

The Nightingale sings to the Storm at Midnight - Prose of Ramadhan Part 52

42. Singing for a Lord whom I cannot see (CS)

Life has left me

As a little nightingale,

Singing, alone on a tree,

For a Lord whom I cannot see.

It is a groggy Sabbath morning that greets me. Last night there was thunder and lightning at midnight. The trees bent, bowed and swayed before the weight of a divine sky unleashing its mercy upon an unhappy and often sleeping humanity. I watched the show for awhile before falling into a restless sleep still wondering, "Oh Lord, what shall become of us?". I find God to be the most ideal company, when any human companionship is rude. Sometimes you just need time for your own thoughts, yes?

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

Layla and Me - Prose of Ramadhan Part 13

How would it be, If I was all alone in this world,

Save for Layla and me? (Ramadhan Verses #10)

I waited for my son to sleep,

Until I too fell asleep,

Only to awake to Layla

Calling me as she sighed her yearning

In the nightly drizzle and her breath

Opening and shutting the door

Of my bedroom which I leave

Open for her, and only her.

I slipped away from Mikhail in repose

And disposed of my attachments,

To walk into Layla’s embrace -

The darkness of the night,

The stillness of her face,

Feeling only her words

Enveloping me,

And her tears falling

Unto my skin as rain.

I stumble for words

But only this question remained,

How would it be,

If I was all alone in this world,

Save for Layla and me?

I waved goodbye to Iqbal

Who saw me in my

Nightly wandering

With my unseen

Host.

And I returned to Layla,

Walking into her twilight tears

Into the sight of Her delight,

And shyly, I drew my shirt aside

To expose my right shoulder

To her rain and her wind,

As the Prophet once did,

But me as a courtier,

In service

Of my loving Queen.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

The Door, the Nightingale, the Sun and the Question

THE DOOR

In this life, it is often that we make mistakes, some small, other bigs, and a few gigantenormous errors. As a sinner, I am quite the expert in this field. We act on our foolish ego, say or do regrettable things until we find ourselves at His Door. It is not a door of distinction. Saints and Prophets do not enter this way, for this is the door for the wayward and foolish…

10. Here We Are!
Here we are!
Caught between sin
That is sure to condemn us,
And the gall to desire
Something greater than paradise.

Here we are!
Continuing, impertinently
To ask for Light
When darkness is best suited
To hide our shame.

Here we are!
Wanderers and fools
With a fools’ hope,
Knocking on His Door
On which is inscribed;
My Mercy is Greater than My Anger,
My Love is Greater than My Wrath,

Here we are!
Outside the entrance sanctified
For the wayward
And the foolish-looking.

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE SUN

But you see, my friends, who cares by which door we enter into the Divine Presence? That you have made it to any door is already wonderful. Because simply put, being lost is a necessary human pre-condition to being guided…

51. Lonely Nightingale
If the nightingale was not lonely
Would she still sing?

If your path was straight and unbending
Would you still want guiding?

And there is no greater guide to God than God Himself. An ancient Sufi saying goes like this…

Only by the Sun do you see the Sun

THE QUESTION. So now you are at the Door. Now what? The truth of the matter is you are the Door keeper, not God. It is your door, actually, not His. So many people are knocking on God’s door wanting to be let in… While God Himself is ruefully observing that…

The Question
These servants of Mine! They are forever knocking on the Door, beseeching Me, ‘Let me in, O’ Lord! Let me in!’, when in Truth, I am the one being locked out by them. It is not for Me to open the Door for them… it is for them to open the Door for Me. Who is the Master and who is the servant here?

I leave you with that question, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote –
Related Postings (2) “Abu Bakar, Abu Yazid, the End of Hell Part II, Calvin & Hobbes and My Left Foot” – CLICK HERE. “God’s Door is Always Open, So is My Mum’s” – CLICK HERE.

“Here we are!’ is from ‘The Profane and the Profound’ (Sept 2004), and ‘Lonely Nightingale’ is from ‘The Dam.SunSun.Ana’ (April 2004). ‘The Question’ is freshly baked today.

Night of the Nightingales

47. Night of the Nightingales
Stay away o’ Sandman, and don’t bother me,
Tonight in your web I won’t be caught,
(So) Keep your lullabies for those who cannot see
The fruits of what they sow and what they wrought.

O’ Lord High King, before whom all are beggars,
Unchain my fetters, and let my soulful voice ring!

I wish to sing Your praise tonight
And ask forgiveness for my brother
Who by his haste, has forgotten God
Who by his heart, should know better
But knows not.
……….

There are those amongst you who sleep little, but attend at night to remembrance and soulful calling and singing of the Lord’s name.

I am fortunate to know a few, and I believe countless more are out there. I wish to thank you now for what you are doing. I know you do not need my thanks, but I need to give it, you see. That is the least I can do.

Friday is coming to an end here in Malaysia, but wherever you may be, please continue to sing, nightingale! Your music and yearning fills my heart...

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote – ‘Night of the Nightingales’ is from chapter 1, the Dam.SunSun.Ana, completed June 2004.

The Nightingales (45, The Dam.SunSun.Ana)

Long night vigils are at hand
O’separation’s sweet sorrow
So sang all the Lord’s nightingales
Perched on the Willow.