WHEN A STORY BECOMES YOUR HISTORY... how belief transmutes a mere tale into your own personal past

They Found Me
I found them that night,

Nightingales without wings,

Oh how they sang for their king!

I found them that night,

Weaving love in the night air

With their enchanted words!

I found them that night,

Swaying to and fro in a conference of birds,

Swaying to and fro, all perched in many rows,

I found them that night,

Me, the beggarly crow,

An unfit, uninvited shadow in the assembly,

Or so my reason did quell me,

Until came this ancient whisper,

Assuring the broken sinner,

“You did not find us,

We found you,

Tired and torn

Weary and worn,

We found you unspoken for,

So we said unto the Prophet…

We will take him.

This was the trade we made,

Long, long, ago…

This was the oath we took from you,

Long, long ago…

This was the love promised,

Long, long ago…

As the nightingales sang and dance,

Whirling and swaying to and fro..."

These words were spoken long, long ago
How I wish I could remember...

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

When you think about it (and why not?), your past antecedents and your personal history make who you are now. The things you have done (or not done), the words you have spoken (or omitted to speak) in your past, these direct personal experiences have all conditioned your attitude towards God, mankind and the world. But there is also another contributor to your personality... 

Your belief.

In the Sufi school whose zawiya resides not far from my home, is the belief that its mureeds (pupils) were all chosen in some distant event before time began. In that story, all the Saints and Masters of the different tarikats (Sufi schools) were  invited by the Prophet Muhammad (saws) to lay claim upon their (future) mureeds. But from the multitude, some souls were left behind. A Saint and Master  (and in whose name the Sufi order takes after) stepped up, and basically said... "I will take these souls left behind. As none will take them, I shall."

I reckon that my friends who often frequents the zawiya, not only knows this story - rather they actually believe the story. And once you believe such a tale, it no longer remains merely a story. It becomes your own history. And the grace and gratitude, the humility and generosity that such history inspires would benefit your present thoughts, words and action. How fortunate are such people!

So let your own good stories become your history and illuminate your life. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way