DIVINE BEVERAGE - drinking the tea of certainty (or can't a man have his tea in peace?)

I ordered tea for breakfast this morning at my neighbourhood coffee-house. The proprietor (Iqbal) soon returned with a nice hot mug of the beverage. But before I could lay my hand on it, an ancient friend (let's call him George) came to sit with me. Then he looked wonderingly at my tea. "This is no ordinary tea, o'Taufiq...!" Ejaculated my unbidden guest. "...This milk tea is infused with the essence of garlic, And will you look at it! Its perfect colour of light brown, its smooth yet full bodied flavour! Oh, can't you see o' man, how you take for granted God's daily grace to you and how in each divinely blended moment (or tea) he showers you with His earthly favours!? Oh look! Look! Angels are dancing on its bubbly froth!"

Oh brother. My friend must be going mad. But before I can reveal my diagnosis of his psychological condition, he got up and left just as quickly as he appeared.

But this unworldly moments continued later when I wanted to pay. I called Iqbal for the tab, to which he gave me a brilliant smile, then seemingly plucking a sum out of thin air, he replied, "Only one Ringgit forty cents!" But as I had an inconvenient change of coins  he took only one Ringgit thirty cents and gently pried open my hand and replaced the rest of the coins into my palm. And as he was doing this he was softly singing to himself... there is no god but God... and Muhammad is the Messenger of God... there is no god but God... and Muhammad is the Messenger of God...

Oh brother. Iqbal must be going mad too. What IS in the air this Sunday morning?

He he he.

Have a sweet Sunday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in islam

Love will show the Way

FAITH HAS NO WEIGHT, LOVE HAS NO MASS - tea and the divine parables and metaphors

Faith Has No Weight, Love Has No Mass

Heavy books with heavy phrases,

Heavy looks on heavy faces,

Heavy thoughts in heavy hearts,

O’ scholars, what are you teaching yourselves!?

Heavy tents and heavy politics,

Heavy plans and heavy tricks,

Heavy words and heavy hubris,

O’ scholars, what are you teaching yourselves!?

Heavy pride and heavy fences,

Heavy fears and heavy defenses,

Heavy deeds and heavy offences,

O’ scholars! What are you teaching yourselves!?

In truth, faith has no weight

And love has no mass,

And the only thing heavy

Is a heart of both bereft.

…………………. 

A good heart gives the fortunate owner a nimbleness in his thinking, his work, his play and his loving. A good heart does not see the world in the material and spiritual sense, knowing as he does, that there is in truth only one reality. Only that such reality can be read and understood in two aspects, like two sides of the same coin.

Tea and the Divine Parables and Metaphors. In the holy Quran, we are informed that God talks to us in parables and metaphors. And so He does, while we work out what He is saying to us through our physical and spiritual interpretation of the world. So, when you drink tea, it is not merely a temporal  action, but also a spiritual action. It's the same whether you are asleep or awake, working, playing or praying. 

And good heart is important for this sorta thing.

So I hope to one day gain a good heart. It is not a complicated concept. Just do more good than bad. But for myself, this has been the most challenging ambition of all. But I still have hope, and I pray. To gain that nimbleness of footing upon the mountain.

'Tis Friday. Have a lovely weekend, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam 

Love will show the Way 

Tea, Coffee and the Barely-there Mustache

Tea-drinkers - "Coffee is the beverage for barbarians..."

A Cup of Flux
Last night I was pottering around the kitchen
When suddenly, a flux in time and space
Found myself walking with my head high up in the clouds,

And although I found the experience breath-taking
I could not see what my feet was doing,
And frankly, I was starting to get dizzy...

So I returned to my normal size
And happily, things are now
As they have always been…
As they ought to be,

And I am me once again,
Just a man, tired and sleepy,
Pottering in his kitchen
Making some tea.

…………………………………………

Everyone loves tea. Except for those who prefer coffee, like me. But I have a sneaky feeling that in the great working of the Universe, tea is up there for the elite and learned, while coffee is left for the barbarians and peasants like me. This may not be true, it is just a feeling, after all.

I am cool, learned and unbelievably good-looking.
I drink tea.

The Turks love tea so much that I recall Ihsan the Turk dabbing his one-month old son's lips with drops of tea. "Rafael will learn to like tea, brother." He explained to me. Well, if you do that, of course he will.

In honour of tea, I am in fact having iced milk tea right this very moment. Sitting with me are my neighbourhood street-sweepers who begin the day with breakfast at ALAI, an Indian Muslim restaurant near my house. They are a noisy cheerful lot, considering they are sweeping the streets and picking up litter and garbage all day. Why is it that Indian men like to keep mustaches? To be honest, I am myself trying to grow a mustache. I think a mustache would give my face 'character'. But jeepers, when I am surrounded by these guys with their great big thick black upper-lip hair... Well, I feel rather inadequate with my own thin sparse barely-there mustache.

Oh well.

Have a beautiful facial hair day, sunshine, if you are a man that is. If you are a woman, then have an ordinary beautiful day sans facial hair.

God bless.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

In My Shameful Servitude, to Love - Prose of Ramadhan Part 4

In My Shameful Servitude, to Love (Ramadhan Verses #4)

My beloved, you are

My earth and my heart,

My untilled soil,

My life yet to be lived,

My love yet to be felt,

My joy yet to be received,

My promise as yet unfulfilled,

My home yet to be lived in,

My precious pulse,

My dogged breath,

My inspiration,

The cloth that I wear,

The honey in my tongue,

The sweat on my brow,

My yesterday and tomorrow

My love, my companion,

My here and now.

My beloved, you have me,

And I am yours devotedly,

Do not cast me away,

Not when I am yours already,

Don’t you see?

If this is shameful servitude,

Then I do not wish

To be free.

Your weak voice

Weakens me,

You weary words

Wearies me.

Do not show me the door,

I do not wish to be where

I was before,

Before you came into my life,

For it was not I

Who opened the door.

And it was not you alone

That walked into me,

Love unlocked my lips,

And Love woke me from

My dark and restless sleep.

Will the sun now set

On the Sea of Forgiveness?

Will there be no princess to save?

No warlocks and witches to battle?

No quest for Truth, Love and Chivalry?

Tell me the answer is No,

Come and sit beside me,

I have made a pot of tea.

Let’s talk and later walk.

Just you, me 

and infinity.

We all make mistakes. In a couple of hours it will be the eve of Ramadhan, so let's make up with the ones we love. Make a pot of tea and invite him/her over. No, don't wait! Do it, my friend.

Have a happy day, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

The Stray Dog & the Happier Truth!

Woof! .

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I AM A STRAY DOG. And I strayed from the conventional education of my religion, drifting into books of masters and saints of what people conveniently call Sufism. In their gentle company I found the beautiful interpretation of my religion through an ancient lore. But the wisdom contained within their grasp is as fresh as if it were first uttered by the Prophet Muhammad a moment ago, as if it was acted upon by Umar the Mighty only this morning, and illustrated by the Chilvarous Ali presently by his valour and the sword Zulfiqar. In the wonderous and often humorous escapades of the Murids (students) I find great joy and wit, only to rest upon the eyes of the Masters for balance, patience and moderation. I am a stray, and I strayed into a courtyard of lovers - seeking love and desiring to learn the ways of love. There is no difficulty here. There is only ease.
.

,

WHAT IS ACTUALLY CONVENTIONAL? What was discovered in the teachings of the Sufi Masters is both glorious and delicate - as magnificent as the Hagia Sofia, but more subtle than the fluttering of a butterfly;s wings. And it showed to me that what I first assumed to be the conventional teaching of Islam to be unconventional in its incompleteness. It is not the fault of anyone, but somewhere, somehow, Islam became a 'religion', a 'syllabus', a 'Phd' and a 'doctorate". Then it transformed into an 'Islamic state' with 'Islamic banks', 'Islamic Revolutions' and 'Islamic ways of dressing.' In the dire finality, Islam became an excuse. It loss the lustre of love - the Islam of Muhammad was the Sun during the day, and the Moon at night, but by the time I came to school in the 1970s, it turned into realpolitik. When I was young, Islam did not speak to me. The voice of Muhammad was still and mute in the religious books that was prescribed for my reading. I knew of him. But really, I knew nothing at all about him. In Sufi lore, I found him and a happier truth.
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THE HAPPIER TRUTH. What I say here, my friends, it is not the Complete Truth. But so far as I can see, it is certainly the Happier Truth. Yet there are some who would contest this Happier Truth, saying to us -.
.

1. Surely, the religion is not as simple as you claim it to be.
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2. Surely, the religion is not as 'happy' as you say it is.
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CERTAINTY IN GOD IS THROUGH CERTAINTY IN HIS PROPHET. But why not? After all, the Prophet had to leave behind such divine lore so clearly fundamental so as to take into account the really slow-witted (such as me), and yet brilliantly fascinating to keep the most hard-to-please of his nation (such as you) captivated by its beauty and passion. He would not be Muhammad, had he not given to us the grace of his traditions, to exemplify and embody the Completeness of the Holy Quran. Of this I am certain.

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Have a lovely Thursday, sunshine. I am gonna have breakfast now, will you join me in a cup of certain-tea?

.

.
Pax Taufiqa
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Earlier posting on certainty entitled "Having a Cup of Certainty at Rumi's Famous Tea Room"
(Click Here)

Having a Cup of Certainty at Rumi's Famous Tea Room

Last night I visited Rumi at his famous Tea Room,
He offered me a pot of the stuff, saying “Have some tea!”.

.
I took a sip of the beverage and found it wonderful.

“This is amazing tea! What tea is this?”
.

“Ah!” He exclaimed, apparently delighted but saying no more.
.

Once I finished off the tea, Rumi immediately poured another piping hot cup,
which I found to be even better, “Wow, Rumi, this is even more delicious!”
.

With a glint in his eyes, he replied,

“My tea is special. It gets yummy and yummier with every cup!”
.
“Then you should really name and brand your tea, you know.”, I countered.
.

“It already has a name, haven’t you guessed?”

He replied as he poured from the teapot, “It’s called Certainty”.
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If certainty is important to people of all religion, then ‘Troubling doubt’ is the No.1 enemy of all faiths. Rabbis in synagogues and theologians in mosques constantly exhort their flock towards certainty. The Arabic word for certainty is ‘Yaqin’ (or Yakin).

I reckon that certainty / yaqin, much like belief, is not something promulgated by the mind. It must be felt in the heart.

Lucky are those who are sipping certainty each and every second of their blessed lives. I am not one of them, but if you are, then please… share with me a little drop from your cup. For each drop you give me, surely God will grant you an ocean…

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Drinking Certainty At Rumi’s Tea Room

Why colour
Your day with doubt
When you can drink
Certainty from
Every Cup (of Moments)?
.

Have a great Monday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote: Tea, Prose and Sketch is freshly brewed today. Bon appetit.