THE SINNER AND THE SKY FULL OF STARS - Nabi Muhammad (saws) and Coldplay. It all makes perfect sense.

A Sky Full of Stars

...'Cause you're a sky full of stars,

I am going to give you my heart...

...'Cause you're a sky full of stars,

And 'Cause you light up the path...

I don't care, go on and tear me apart,

I don't care if you do,

'Cause in a sky, cause in a sky full of stars,

I think I saw you...

'Cause you're a sky, cause you're a sky full of stars,

I wanna die in your arms,

'Cause you get lighter the more it  gets dark,

I am gonna give you my heart,

You're a sky, you're a sky full of stars,

Such a heavenly view,

You are such a heavenly view.

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

So ran selected extracts of the Coldplay song, "A Sky Full of Stars".

And many eons before, the Prophet Muhammad (saws) said,

My Companions are like stars (on a dark night)

Whichever of them you follow,

You will be guided.

Coincidence or Karma? He he he. Of course you know the truth, sunshine. There is no such thing as coincidences, which is merely a convenient word to describe an event whose thread of cause and effect we are not able to discern yet. It is a lazy man's escape.

But we are not lazy, you and I. Not when the meanings of meanings blaze a trail like a comet through our soul's sky. White, blue, orange or purple... the Truth guides us, cherishes us and raise our petty worldly burdens off our tired shoulders. So is it a pop song performed by a British band? Or is it a universal pledge of guidance spoken by the Habibullah (saws), re-animated for us?

Enjoy the vid, peeps.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Notrumi Embun, 25th June 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE LION, THE DESERT & THE RIVER OF TEARS - of songs, archery, friendship and the Seal of the Prophets

(Painting of "The Gypsy" by Henri Rousseau, 1897)

The Lion, the Desert & the River of Tears

A lion stood between me and my Love,
I permitted the lion to consume me,
That I may become the lion
And meet my Love
Who is ardently waiting for me...

A desert stood between me and my Love,

I cried and I cried and I cried

Until a mighty river rose from my tears,

I jumped in. and was borne safely

To my Love who was waiting for me,

Carried to Him in my river of tears...

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

This morning, I invited my friend, Mr. Ikhlas for coffee. I said to him, "I am practicing archery! And I have coffee and tea! Come!" Happily, he agreed. After half-an-hour there was still no sign of him or the ancient van that he often drives in. Then I received a call from Mr. Ikhlas communicating to me that he was stuck because Si-Merah (the Red One, which is the colour of his van) is uncooperative and is refusing to start. "Would you mind coming over and picking me up?" He inquired. 

So I stopped shooting and went to pick him up. Arriving shortly at my house, the Qasida Burda (an ancient hymn about God Almighty and His Prophet Muhammad saws) was playing, for I enjoy listening to the song while doing archery. Mr. Ikhlas's face lighted up hearing the ancient words wafting in the morning air. And so our morning turned, around music and life, family and friends, accompanied by my playlist which I impetuously titled as the Red Rose Garden playlist. I call it the Red Rose because all of the songs, which includes pop and rock ballad, in English and in my Malay language, recalls to me the beautiful personality and mercy of the Prophet Muhammad Habibullah (saws). And I often play it in my garden, ergo... the Red Rose Garden. He he he. 

In the course of our chit-chat, an Indonesian song started to play, entitled 'Sempurna' ('Perfect') by the Indonesian band, Andra & the Backbone. I said to Mr. Ikhlas... "This is a song describing the Prophet Muhammad... and our yearning for him." We sat quietly, listening to the haunting melody and loving lyrics, then I saw my dear old friend's eyes glistening with tears. This is the song.

"Oh you made me cry this morning, Taufiq!" Mr. Ikhlas said to me, as I drove him home later.

So you see, that is why I wrote of the Lion, the Desert and the River of Tears. Because the true way of Love is often glistening with pearl-like teardrops shining like stars in our mortal sky. But they are tears of happiness. And they hang over us like stars of hope. 

Keep the faith, sunshine!

-Notrumi, 17th April 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

FROM MORTAL TO IMMORTAL REALITY - the complete soul, the bridge and Adam's exile

I Have Come

I have come to lay to rest the lie,

I have come to bury the deception,

That there is any truth to you or I,

Nor any weight to this creation,

I have come to fish out pearls of heaven,

Deep in this infinite Mercy Ocean,

Trawling for signs of the Unique One,

More secret than a love potion,

More apparent than the rising Sun,

I have come bearing missives from heaven,

To you, to me, to anyone who would listen,

To remind us all of our final destination,

And why, in truth, 

Perhaps we have

Never left His 

Presence?

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

The Complete Soul. It is good to recall an interesting Hadith (oral tradition) of the Prophet Muhammad (saws), when he said words to the effect that... "When I die, I shall ask God to return to me my complete soul." It is also good to recall that learned scholars have acknowledged this important message, that the soul we hold directly in our earthly experience in our body that we wear, is not our complete soul. Only a smattering of rays of the light of our soul animates our mortal vessel. Substantially, we still remain in His Presence, no doubt besotted by God the all-Besotting One! No doubt so utterly captivated and devoted to God the all-Attractive One, the all-Captivating One, the all-Beautiful One and the One Whom we cannot bear to be separated from.

Adam's Exile. Of course, all this high-fallutin' transcendental reflection does not mean that we should all simply let waste our life here and wait to die and rejoin God and our complete soul. For we are still experiencing our journey through the hardship and happiness of this world, the sweet and sour fruit of Adam (as)'s exile. Reflection upon our immortal spirit, its connection to God Almighty, and the spiritual bridge between us and Allah (swt) that is the Prophet Muhammad (saws) makes this life all too precious to ignore. 

The Song of the Habibullah. So let us tread the earth of this world firmly and with great resolution. But let us be guided by the moral and spiritual compass that Allah the all-Loving has left in all of us... our heart and conscience. And in our heart, have no doubt that there is no music more enlightening, no song more true than the words and wisdom of God's own mercy to all the worlds, our beloved Nabi Muhammad Habibullah (saws).

Have a lovely Friday, sunshine...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

HAPPY 50TH BIRTHDAY, POONE! ...The World of the Heart, Sibling Love and the Eternal Debt

When alive, Poone used to confide in his nephews that he shan't live to reach 50.
But to me, he has.

Happy Birthday, Poone! Today is my late brother Abang Chik's (Saiful Bahri, or Poone to his friends) birthday. I was reminded of this yesterday evening when my only living brother, Abang Ein (Mohamed Zahurein) mentioned it to me. Poone is 50 years old today. 

I guess the normal wording would be is Poone would be 50 years old today, if only he is still alive. For you see, my brother passed away one rainy evening on 14th September 2013. But I cannot bring myself to write the normal way about Poone. Because to me, he is still living. If not alive in this physical world, he is very much alive in my heart. And in God's beautiful way, the world of the heart trumps the physical world all the time. No contest, really.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Formed, Formless in the Dictionary of Love

He was formless,

Then he was born and given form,

Then God wanted him back and

He became formless again...

But lo, I can feel him in my heart

And upon my lips and in my eyes,

Formed or formless he is my brother,

And there is no past tense

In the Dictionary of Love

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

Poone & Ein. My two brothers never really got on when Poone was alive. They had some similar tastes in music, but I think I would do neither of them any disservice if I said that both brothers had different passion and essence lighting their own separate destinies. Yesterday, Adam our nephew said, "You know... I wish my dad and Pak Poone was closer before..." I thought for awhile before replying, "But Adam, you and your dad washed his naked body before we prayed jenazah (funeral prayers) for Pak Poone. How much more intimate do you want your father to be with Pak Poone?" I think my nephew saw the logic of my reply. 

My brother, Abang Ein stepped up when Poone died and performed his brotherly duties. Which made me very happy. Because I am learning now that we often get frustrated, angry, annoyed and irritated by our close kin because they are our close kin. Had we not loved them so, we would not have cared and been so disturbed! He he he.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

A Sibling Love

May God bless our brothers and sisters,

No matter how we may feel about them,

For it is through love that we feel the sorrow today,

And it is through love that we will find happiness tomorrow!

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

I cannot tell you how much debt I owe to my brother Poone. He influenced and taught me so many things.

A Debt to a Brother

When I was stupid,

He brought me  good books,

When I was deaf,

He taught me beautiful music,

When I was impatient and angry

He showed me patience and mercy,

And when I was lost and needed guidance,

He took me to a Murshid,

To whom I swore the Bay'ah.

I shall be indebted to him

In so many ways

Till the day that I die,

On which day I hope to see him,

To say "I am sorry, I love you..."

And to rest my weary head on his shoulders and cry.

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

Sigh. Story of my life. And perhaps it is a story of your life too? Dearly departed(s) leaving us with a debt that we will never be able to repay. 

It is a good thing, it is a beautiful thing, but it also brings tears to your eyes sometimes. 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

Saiful Bahri bin Abdul Khalid aka Poone
al fatiha

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

LAYLA'S LAMENT - God, Man, Love and the Language of Music

Layla's Lament

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you love me, 

And Majnun, 

Say not that you care, 

For it is you 

Who has always denied me, 

So couch no lies in your words so fair,

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you seek me, 

And in your search 

Oh how you despair, 

For I am always

There beside you, 

It is you who act 

Like I am not there,

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you believe, 

And in your heart 

You do not deceive, 

For I am often 

The One lied to, 

Oh, how shall it be 

If I am as untrue? 

Oh Majnun, 

How hollow is your smile, 

For in your life 

You mix truth with your lies, 

And the crown that you wear 

Was never meant for you, 

And the path you choose 

Will take you no where. 

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

A Love Story. Everyone (I assume) have heard or read the story of Layla and Majnun. About the poor love-struck Majnun who was utterly, helplessly besotted with Layla, a woman with the unfortunate condition of being someone else's wife. Uh oh. Trouble.

Adam, my nephew, recording Layla's Lament first rough (very rough) cut.
We have passed it on to our singer and composer friend, Azri to flesh out
the song and add a little sparkle. 

God and Man. The story of Layla and Majnun was also read and interpreted as a parable of the love between Man and God. And it is in this context that Layla's Lament was written, way back in 21st November 2005. The date was in fact its original title, and just to add another level of myopia, the poem also had a second name, being 'Qubruz Bluez 2'. So Layla's Lament is its third and final (let's hope so!) incarnation.

I am forced to this rare change because the poem is being adapted for music, and let's face it... '21st November 2005 (Qubruz Bluez 2)' is a little long and vague for a song title. I am no musician, but with a little help from some very gifted friends, we hope to have an acceptable song within the next couple of months. 

My Infidelity. And I guess this is where I must confess... that I have been spending a lot of my free time working on the lyric and music for Layla's Lament. I am having an adulterous affair with music, leaving this almanac untouched for days on end. And it is not just Layla... but many, many other songs and prose, including instrumentals that have torn my attention away from my writing. I have been a bad, bad boy.

But to be honest... At 43, I am thankful to God Almighty and the Prophet (saws) for giving me another chance. Reawakening an ancient passion to fill my days. For I am enjoying becoming a student once again... learning the language of music, making my first untutored, awkward steps to God-knows-what-end. And finding the infinite space in the syllable of each word that is uttered or sang with love. 

184. Cathedral of Beauty

If Layla had not sent Majnun to guide us,

How long would we stray still in the temples of lesser devotions,

Never to set foot in the Cathedral of Beauty?

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

I have the story already, you see. Thousands upon thousands. But now I want someone to sing it!

Wish me luck, sunshine, in this new adventure, and for those still yet unknown who will be my travelling companions in this journey.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

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 

DRUMS BEATING IN THE NIGHT, SUFIS WHIRLING IN DELIGHT

A Journey in the Meaning of Sound

Life begins as a journey in the meaning of sound,

As you cry out for your mother's milk,

Then, as you grow and learn to discern reality,

Stringing sentences to encapsulate your understanding,

Life becomes a journey in words and their ever-changing meaning,

But for the music writer, 

The composer in all of us,
Listening to nature,

Life still remains  a thing

To be understood in the ebb and tide,

And the tone and tempo of raw sound,

The oboe, the cello, the guitar and the flute,

The piano, the synth, the stirring cup of music,
The songs of the nightingale,
The watery speech of the sperm whale,

Drums beating in the night,

Sufis whirling in delight.

Like the child we once were... 
Crying for our mother's milk,

They raise their voice

In words formed yet formless,

Praising a God felt yet unseen,

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

Why is a sound pleasant to us? Why is Mozart's music often uplifting, Bach's symphonies thought provoking? What is in the nature of a particular melody or chord that strikes us with sadness, joy and melancholy? Even without words, instrumental music has been instrumental (forgive the pun) in shaping our thoughts and our feelings.

The appreciation of music has been wired into the human soul. It is one of the most visceral form of communications we have been granted by God, the Most Musical and Melodious One. To appreciate God and His Attributes through song and music is a gift beyond measure.

If you are musical, do not fret, for you are in good company. As I recorded with a merry nonchalance many, many years ago...

2. Music, Truth and Mercy

Music is prohibited for some,

Not advisable for a few,

Optional for others,

Highly recommended for the rest,

And mandatory for a number.

Truth is for all.

And Mercy is for the asking.

Heh! 

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

So let the music play, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

LOVE IS BEST WHEN SHARED - you and the bird in the Conference of the Birds

All Birds Will One Day Fly Away

A little bird perched on my shoulder,

And he told me of things I never knew,

Of words and music, of knowledge and beauty,

And he said, "This is the world God has created for you."

As  I grew, from child to teenage turmoil,

Then to manhood and fatherhood,

I grew larger and larger,

And the little bird

Grew smaller

And smaller.

Until one day, the little bird said,

"What I had to share with you I have done so,

So now you must learn to carry on...

And to let me go."

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

Like a Bird. Don't get too attached to the birds that, for a brief while, accompany you in your life, sunshine. For as Nelly Furtado lyrically says... "I am like a bird, I will only fly away, I don't know where my soul is, I don't know where my home is." They cannot remain perched on your shoulder forever, not when the siren call of the Divine Presence resonates within them daily. And with each beat of their mortal heart the song becomes more urgent, ever more arresting. Until one day, the bird can't stand it any longer, and finally surrenders to the eternal song of the Lord, to close their eyes forever and to fly to Allah (swt).

The bird in the poem is in reference to my late brother, Saiful a.k.a. Poone. But we are all birds. And as a bird, we must always remind the person that we are with, of our own mortality. "I love you...", we might say to our beloved, but add this necessary truth, "But Allah (swt) and the Prophet Muhammad (saws) loves you best of all. I will one day die. But the Love of Allah and Habibullah will always remain your faithful companion. If I were to suddenly go tomorrow, do remember me in your prayers. But never forget God Almighty and your Master Muhammad Sayyidina Mutahharul Janan (saws), through whom you may love me forever!"

Love is Best When Shared, don't you agree, sunshine? And it is best when it is eternal. Our mortality? Mortality is only a technical issue to be sorted out as we walk along this path of love.

So don't worry. Be happy. Remember.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

footnote: 
Sketch by Amir Adam Mohd Zahurein

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BEAUTY . MUSIC . GENEROSITY OF SPIRIT - following the Scent of the Sunnah

What Innovation?

There is no innovation in worship,

There is no innovation in music,

So sing!

Dance!

Jump!

Move you hands!

Move your legs!

Sway and whirl!

Do not let polite society

Writhing in some obscure regret

For some ancient sin not of their making

Dampen your expressions of love

In the prison of their posturing!

.................................   

I am getting old. Too old of a dog to be chained to pretensions and acquired postures of piety. Let me free, and let me sniff out the trail through the witch's forest and find the Divine Presence. Tucked away in some sinner's covert sorrow or a street-walker's hidden tears. 

I love beauty. And I love beautiful things. The high minarets and the palatial domes draws our eyes up, higher and higher to the sky and beyond. "Look unto us, o' Man!", the celestial heavens seem to speak to us at night... "How small and petty you appear to be." , they abjure us. "But remember your smallness, for therein is the sign of your nobility.", as they point us towards submission and total servanthood to God, our common Creator. 

I love music. And I am taught by a gentle, sensitive spirit to love music. And once there was a time, when saintly speech, beauty and music seem to work hand in hand. Connecting humanity, through all shades of creed, race, nationality and colour.

Music. Beauty. Generosity of Spirit. These are the virtues that give me the greatest succour in these strange days of ours where wealth, hubris and hate has possessed a large swath of mankind. So if you find me with my eyes closed during the daytime, do not think I am asleep. I am listening to the symphony of love, I am walking through the temples of beauty, following an enchanting scent. The scent that is the words, the life and the wisdom of Allah's (swt) Mercy to all the Worlds, Muhammad Sayyidina Miftahul Jannat (saws) . 

You have been there, sunshine. I have seen you. 

Hey! Hey! Let me in! You are my heart and I demand to be let in!
Key? What key? What in God's name are you talking about!?

We are taught that to gain entry into our own hearts, and into the heart of our heart, we shall need a key. The Sayyidina Miftahul Jannat, the Key to the Garden, that being none other than the one most honoured, yet most humble of all His Creation, the Prophet Muhammad Habibullah (saws).

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place

Love will show the Way

Poone, the Humble Shovel, Suzanne Vega and the Garden of Stones...

The Humble Shovel

You may have ridden in the finest horse and carriage,

You may have feasted from plates of gold and silver,

But to me will you come at the end of your world,

I am your ready servant, whatever your tone,

Me, beside the waiting gravedigger,

Me, your humble shovel

In the Garden of Stones.

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

The Best Time to Go. I am so at home at the cemetery, especially now that Poone (my late brother and the one I call Abang Chik) is laid to rest there. The only issue I have is the buzzing mosquitoes that insist on accompanying me wherever I am, at whichever grave I visit. It crossed my mind that the safest place from this annoying insects is to be six feet under. But thank God that my own passing is not mine to choose the time and place. Are we not lucky that the circumstances of our passing shall be in the hand of He Who Created us? He Who knows us best (and despite knowing all our filthy secrets), Loves us best of all? 

It will be the best of time for us, and for those we will leave behind.

Obnoxious. I have no doubt of this, because God has promised us... Sometimes, we living inevitably sigh and yearn for the company of our dearly departed kin or friend. However happy, angry, sad or irritating our relationship with the deceased may have been. One of my brother's closest friend said to me, as we were burying Poone, "Oh my God, he is one of the most obnoxious person I know!" And I agree with him. But he would also agree that we would give all our worldly treasures to have just one more obnoxious moment with him. 

He he he.

Poone's musical taste. Before I leave you, let me leave you with what my brother has left me. A taste in some of the great musicians of our era. In the early eighties, Santa Monica-born folk singer and songwriter Suzanne Vega made a bit of name in England, captivating audiences with her haunting prose and magical guitar. This is one of our favourite(est)... its called 'Cracking'.  

God bless you, sunshine. Be happy and assured of love from God, a love infinite in its breadth and deeper in its solace than your most intimate dreams...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BLUE SKY, GOD & YOU - the haze, the hermitage

The Song of Solitude

I am caressed by the silence,

Listening to the song of solitude,

Alone, here in the hermitage in the sky,

I am as I am, asking God,

The pre-Eternal question...

"Who, what, how and why?"

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

After almost one week away, I am back at the hermitage, accompanied with the blue sky that was painfully absent for one week since the smoggy haze enveloped my sad country. But now, the blue and white wispy clouds are back, and I think my fellow countrymen have learned not to take anything for granted, certainly not the heavenly roof of the Earth. In any affliction, there is always wisdom to learn.

Lest You Forget

I made the sky of beautiful blue hue,

And the clouds of white luster,

And it is I Who keep them blue and white,

Lest you forget who is their Creator!

Lest you forget who is your Creator!

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

Yesterday an old friend of mine accompanied me home for awhile. He was delighted to find a balcony which opened up into the sky, and there he prayed his Asr and Maghrib prayers. Later last night, I sent him home.

But the hermitage is not a place for friends, I think. Well, at least not living, tangible ones. I find this place a calm quite oasis of solitude, and in this palpable silence, the voices of those whom we consider 'dead' are very much alive. I put 'alive' in quotes because Allah (s.w.t.) has said that those who pass away in the state of witnessing (syahid) is very much alive (and well). And I believe that Allah's declaration of these souls' life means more than the brief life that you and I are currently breathing, sunshine. These souls are of course the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), His Family, Companions and Saints. Like stars twinkling in the twilight mist they are a joy constant, an assurance eternal and a sign of hope warranted by the Creator Himself, Allah the Beautiful, Allah the Just and All-Merciful.

Some fair thoughts, sunshine, on this fair and blue Friday.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

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

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