The sinew in the bow
Is my sinew,
The skin on the bow
Is my skin,
The inner strength of the bow
Is my strength,
The draw of the bowstring
Is my effort,
The flight of the arrow
Is my prayers,
And wherever the arrow lands,
That is my destiny.
So if you wish to know the real me,
Find where my arrow lands,
And if you want to know the real you,
Find where your arrow lands...
.................
I dropped by dear old Moses's home yesterday morning. What was meant to be a short hi-bye ended up to a 2 hours visitation. We are fixing the grip back to my original 35lb bow, you see. I have done the preps, tearing away the decorative covering (which I kinda considered a little naff) and carving the rubber grip to make it smaller and more suitable for us Asians with our tiny hands.
Unfortunately, I did not do a good job and Moses had to repair my repair work, carving away the entire side of the grip, and curving the edges to make it more ergonomic. He then measured a paper pattern for the grip and proceeded to cut a lovely black leather (medium soft). And this was the easy part.
Next came the actual chore of glueing and pressing (very very hard indeed) the leather unto the grip and bow, being careful not to leave any spare leather to bubble up. To do this he had to carefully remove any surplus as he turned the leather around the awkward shapes of the bow and the grip.
If it sounds like hard work, it is. But if you are obsessed with doing a good job, and a stickler of getting things right, then it is just another day in Moses's House of Fine Leather. He he he.
And I don't want to get overboard with my hyperbole (well, I do actually... its my thing, you see), but while I was there in his ever-cluttered home, I felt privileged to witness Moses's worshipful work. Although it was not the regular form of Muslim prayers, the giddy atoms in the living room was spinning with joy. And this only happens in state of worshipful devotion.
As always, my friend offered me food (which I had to decline) and we chatted about the profound and the profane as he worked, while in the background, dzikr (remembrance of God) songs and mawluds (songs in salutations and praise of Nabi Muhammad s.a.w.) waft through the air like angelic pearls gliding in love and glory. Later, Mrs. Moses returned from exercising the horse, Samurai, and our little jemaah (assembly) was thus complete.
God bless you, sunshine. And may Allah (swt) forgive me for my awkward hyperboles.
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Notrumi Embun, 20th June 2014
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way
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