The Station of Love, the Soul housed in Clay - the state of Divine Love

This Love is not my Love

O' Prophet, o' Moon of Ahad,

O' the Perfect Man, o' the Chosen One,

I do not love you myself,

I do not know you well enough

To claim that I love you,

So this love must come from Allah,

And it is taking its time passing through me,

To take whatever sustenance I may,

To nourish this soul housed in clay.

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

Knowledge is a beautiful thing when married with Adab (good manners). And good manners is the best for us, when it is married with sincere Love. And there is no Love more expansive, infinite and true than the loving vows exchanged between Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.).

And blessed above many, a thing of divine tranquility is the man or woman who takes sustenance from the exchange of vows between the Lover that is God (s.w.t.) and the Beloved of God that is Muhammad (s.a.w.s.). For when you dip your soul in the Divine Love, it is a river unending, flowing from the fountain of love perfected beyond mortal comprehension.

Sink or swim in the river, however uncomprehending you may be, you are still blessed, sunshine!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

I am a Sign of the End of Time - prose from Singapore

The Sign of the End of Time

The man makes his way to the mosque,

And says, "The Key to my Heart is Morning Prayers at the Mosque..."

The traveler turns away from the world and the crowd

And says, "O' Lord, while I was all alone you kept me company,

But now that I am not alone, I seek your Divine Assurance still..."

The traveler makes his way out of the mosque,

And he hears a preacher man speak, "Now, let me tell you

About the Signs of the End of Time"

The man smiles hearing this and says to no one in particular,

"I am a Sign of the End of Time..."

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

Good morning, sunshine. I am back, arriving in Kuala Lumpur International Airport just a hair before 11pm. How have you been keeping in my absence? I trust all is well, insyaAllah...

The trip was good for me, work-wise as well as attending to matters that I have delayed to do in Singapore. The prose recorded above are the nuggets I have found trawling through the sleepiness of the soul, across the plain of reflection, alone and away from friends and family. And since this is Sunday and is a good day, I leave you, my beautiful spirit, with a lasting and difficult contemplation, but one worthy of your best effort - 

Patient Will

Patience is the unveiling of the Will,

All conquering over the arbitrary

And whimsical nature of

This world.

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

Have a lovely day, sunshine. Rest and relax...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Envy, History and the New You

Envy and the 'New You'

Don't ask for a 'new you',

Ask God to help you reveal

Yourself as you truly are,

As God meant you to be,

Each morning, each day and night

This words come again and again to me, 

Harassed as I am in my despondency and envy.

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

Envy. I don't talk much about it, much less write it. I guess you can call it a sister or brother to pride / the ego. It is certainly a close relation, because just like our ego, it comes from an overwhelming sense of entitlement. Envy is the poison in the well, the hemlock in Socrates's cup, the overcast cloud that ever threatens your daily happiness.

Envy makes prayers dull and dry, and knowledge a burden. It has the ability to change your best of intentions into a warped hateful thing. What can I do??

History and His Mercy

Grab your envy,

Hold it tightly to yourself,

Then... in the name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful

Leap off the cliff of your hurt pride

Into God's Mercy Ocean.

And surrender to history.

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

There is some solace, some balm for this poison. And I think you may find it reading and contemplating the history of the Prophet (s.a.w.s.) and his Companions and Saints. For in their history, we can reflect upon our own still-to-be-finished story and why that as long as we still have breath, we have opportunity. Well, it works for me... So I am going to read a good book today. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate and Envy has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

WHAT I AM NOT AND WHAT I AM - the bearing of the bearer of prophethood

Without Pride

I am not a drop of water

That you see,

For I came from the lakes,

The rivers and the seas,

Within me courses

All the fountains of heaven,

All the springs of wisdom,

All the pools of beauty,

Made rich when the Lord

Made me the Father of Souls!

If you unfurl the whole night sky,

All the stars you see will not count

For the mercy that I bring in me

When the Lord made me

As Mercy to all the worlds!

And if you can know this without pride,

Then certainly I am with you,

And you are with me!

……………….. 

It doesn't matter who you say you are. It really doesn't matter what title precedes your name, whether it is DR., IR. The Right Honourable, Her Britannic Majesty, a simple Mr. or a Ms. or even Prophet of God. It is the bearing of the bearer that best clarifies his or her character, strength and courage. 

In my irregular meetings with the Sufis that inhabit this part of the world, and indeed worldwide through this almanac and Facebook, my happiest times is hearing them recall their own favourite recollections about Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) Prophet of God. But even above that is the abiding moment when I hear one soul say to me...

Beloved of All Creation

I do not love the Prophet

Because he is the Prophet of God,

I love him for what he means to me,

And my only hope is for God 

To assure my education

About His Muhammad,

Beloved of God,

Beloved of all creation.

................... 

Well there. I am leaving this love letter here for the cyber angels to pluck and bring to the Divine Presence and Muhammad's (s.a.w.s.) attention. In the meantime, and for all eternity, you may read its contents just like the rest of my rambling writings in this almanac. And if you meet the Prophet in your journey, you will recall me and the hearts to him, yes?

Thank you, sunshine. I know I can count on you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

And of course: The Hearts are the work of Cristina Colombo, Milan. You may visit her Facebook page by Clicking Here. 

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Between Rumi and Avatar - poetic divinity and over-design

The Wings of My Soul

I would spread the wings of my soul

But even the vast expanse of this universe

Will not be able to contain them,

I would wear the crown of my soul

But the light would blind the rest of creation

And leave them stumbling in a formless world,

I would walk around with the slippers of my soul

But I am not used to walking on air,

Accustomed as I am to the earth

Of my being.

I would unmask my soul

But the mirror of this world

Is held up by my own hands,

And the contradiction of my existence

And my non-existence

Would annihilate my world,

And I would come to be to myself

An unknown, anonymous thing,

To be drawn and written and composed

As God deems fit, as the Prophet instructs.

And even this is not the complete truth!

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

AVATAR. I don't have time for spiritual poetry. For I find this physical world manifest already with the poetic symmetry of creation that can come from God alone. If you do not believe me, look at man's own attempt at creature design... from 'scientific' television documentaries which depict animals and plants dug up from the imagination and tenuous rationalization of scientists (who really ought to know better than go for this 'pop' pseudo-scientific fiction) to mega gazillion movies like Avatar and Prometheus. Not one or two, but all the man-designed creatures somehow appear to be contrived and fictional, lacking the symmetry and asymmetrical cohesiveness of this real world and real creation, registered and copyrighted by our one God. 

Oh my God... you are ugly. I would now normally say,
"Prepare to meet your Maker..." but I know for certain God didn't make you.

And almost all fictional creatures end up with
this one singular fault - over design.

RUMI. Err... I appear to have deviated somewhat from today's topic. So back to poetry and poets. I have assiduously avoided reading poetry, because I don't really enjoy language for language's sake. And even that most celebrated poets such as Rumi and Hafez I evade from reading. But sometimes life moves in its twists and turn and you cannot avoid bumping into these spiritual luminaries. As in a little book Heche acquired for me entitled Rumi - The Fire of Love. This book turns out to be a biography of sorts covering Jelaludin Rumi and his muse, Shams of Tabriz. The book is the creation of Nahal Tajadod, a Teheran born scholar and sufi now residing in France. What makes this book very accessible is that it is written from the point of view of a Rumi mureed (student), but composed in a modern novel language. Nicely done.

I am still reading the book, and slowly devouring the stories and history of Rumi, his family, companions and mureeds, all living in that age under the shadow of the rapacious Mongol hordes from the east. Of the many books I have acquired or been given over this past one year, I think this will be one of my favourites! I will share with you my conclusions upon finishing the book later.

But before I leave you (and leave I must), I recall a prose I recorded many years back. It is kinda funny...

1.      Rumi Freak

A friend once said that

I am a Rumi freak.

But the truth is

I don’t read Rumi.

I am holding his beard

And he has his hands

On my head.

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

Have a thoughtful day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE BEST WAY MIRRORS CAN BE BROKEN - an allergic reaction

Talking to Yourself

You are talking to yourself only,

As you walk and cast your reflection

Upon the mirror that is called the World.

All the good, all the bad,

All the pretty, all the ugly

And all the in between.

Is you.

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

Allergy. Everyone is helping. My hands don't look very nice presently. It is full of scabs and spots which appear to be caused by an allergy outbreak. The doctor has prescribed antibiotics and antihistamine which didn't really work. I also supplemented that with a Chinese herbal remedy (full of dried roots, barks, fruits and fruit skins of laichee and wintermelons) which I had to boil into a blackish brackish ointment to soak my hands in. It kinda helped to heal the open cuts but didn't really help with the actual allergy, and the spots kept coming out. After a week I went to see the doctor again and he stopped the antibiotics but continued with a stronger antihistamine and a gel to rub on the skin. Finally yesterday, Ani, my loyal clerk, gave me a strange jello made from sea weed. I have rubbed my hands twice, and I think my hands feel a little better. I am also taking probiotic supplement pills, as suggested by Mr. Ikhlas, which also seems to be helping. 

White gloves. Today Heche purchased for me a pair of white cotton gloves. I have to travel with Alex and Ariffin down to Singapore over the weekend for a massive signing appointment with buyers of a new condo development in southern tip of Johor. I would wear the gloves if my hands have not dramatically improved by then. Don't wanna scare the clientele. It is not infectious of course, but you understand...

Breaking the Mirror. To be honest with you, I was a bit frustrated over my allergy.. and my own mirror surrounded my thoughts and amplified my concern. But now I cannot ignore that it is sometimes our own maladies and sickness that brings out the best in people around us. Our family and friends, so curious and concerned with my present condition. And despite what the above prose says, this time I think there is no mirror there at all between me and my fair-wishing friends and kin. They are gentle caring creatures, and they broke through my mirror of frustration to give me hope, and insyaAllah, a cure.

And that is the best way mirrors can be broken. Through compassion.

...try this. It might help.

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Dead are not Dead in Spirit - The Prince Part 27

Falling into the Sea

Falling in love is like falling into the sea

And not knowing how to swim,

You trash about, your hands flaying like crazy

Trying to keep afloat, trying to keep your reason,

Nobody sees your struggle, nobody understands your pain,

A little tiny speck in a vast ocean,

Until finally, you understand your Lover,

And learn how to breathe

Under water.

The Norms of the Afterlife

Life is all about

Preparing for the afterlife,

And acquainting yourself

To the norms of

The afterlife.

In its kind courtesies,

Its gentle ways,

Its subtle nuances,

Its mighty mercies,

Its infinite ocean

Of the Lord.

The Milk in the Pitcher

I am here,

But I am not all here,

I am a creature of history,

And this life is but one step 

In a journey from the past

To the future.

So excuse my haste

For I am in a hurry,

And it is my constant wonder

That people do not see

There is little milk

Left in the pitcher,

And I look towards this life and the next

As a divine adventure.

Death, my Kinsman

O’ Death!

Come to me gently in the Reality

Of what you are and who I am,

Come to me unmasked

And I shall wait for you unmasked,

Cast aside that face you wear

And I shall cast aside this face I wear,

For if ALLAH has in Truth, created,

He has created only Muhammad,

And in one body,

Can there beat more than one heart?

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

In the second morning, you will find Mikhail wandering around the royal cemetery of the Perak royal household on Bukit Chandan in Kuala Kangsar. "Where are the babies?" he asked as he looked around, standing on the side of a hill by the edge of the Perak River. He is always fond of babies and makes a particular effort to find their final resting place whenever we visit the garden of stone that is the garden of the dead. He wondered aloud why some graves were in 'cages' (iron fences, actually). I reckoned because they were close kin and told him so.

We finally found al-Marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah's grave lying in a small quadrangle of the Maqam diRaja (Royal Mausoleum), still in its open soil without any marbled tomb raised above it. We normally leave the grave untouched for at least one year for the earth and soil to settle before raising its marbled edifice. Otherwise there is always the risk of the heavy marble sinking into the soil and cracking.

Before we left the royal town, we paid our last visit to Tok Temong's maqam. It was a lot warmer than yesterday, but a river side breeze came to cool the heat of this Sunday morning. Mika apologised for rushing our visit yesterday and looked pleased, as if he had settled an account. I cannot help but smile at his entreaties.

Sometimes I think that cemeteries and maqams, especially those that hold in their breadth the memories of the saints are wonderful places. A penthouse mansion that rises high above the mad rushing life of this world and its rat-race. I am glad Mikhail has no fear of such places. Indeed, he appears very much comfortable and contented. I think this is a good lesson for his future, however Allah (s.w.t.) and the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s) may plan it. 

God bless the dead, for they are not dead in spirit. God bless our children, for they are fresh with the spirit of life, curiosity and hope. And God bless you, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

The Prince. The link to this post has been uploaded to The Prince Page, which contains all previous postings relating to al-Marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman. You can access the page by clicking here.

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Above My Bed of Frangipani Flowers

Above My Bed of Frangipani Flowers

I am not going to be building towering towers,

I am not going to fill libraries with my writings,

I am not going to sculpt a David, a Venus or anybody,

I am not going to climb the highest mountain,

I am not going to get one billion hits on my Youtube video,

I am not going to be a stinking rich writing a computer program

Nor will I be known for my singing prowess,

I only hope to live the rest of my life

Being as little a problem to anyone,

And that is how I hope to while away my hours,

And if anyone cares to carve an epithet,

I hope it will simply read, "He was a nice fellow to know"

Above my bed of frangipani flowers...

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

I am on a roadtrip with my son, Mikhail. Early this morning we left Kuala Lumpur for the royal capital of the state of Perak, my mother's hometown and coincidentally the hometown of al Marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah ibn Sultan Azlan Shah (Ku Ash).

Mikhail with his Upin and Ipin comic.
We stopped by the Tapah rest area for breakfast.

Perhaps my soul is less ambitious than others. Perhaps my soul knows me enough not to expect too much from me. Sometimes I think that my soul's only pretension to virtue and goodness for me is that..."If, he doesn't accidentally step on an ant today, I would be happy."

We are spending the night here in Ipoh, the state capital, just a half-an-hour's drive away. Tomorrow we shall be making one more visitation to Kuala Kangsar, then a leisurely drive back home.

Ku Ash. Prince of Perak, Sultan of Hearts...
al fatiha

Have a wonderful Sabbath, sunshine. God bless you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Without Adab (Good Manners), You Do Not Attain the Divine Presence but Vertigo.

Thank you. I would like to remain attached to the high-wire, if you don't mind.

There is no detachment only Adab (Good Manners)

Not doing anything

Is doing something,

Making an observation

Is participation,

And however you would

Like to think that you do not judge,

To a certain degree, we all judge.

But what you do with your judgment

Is entirely your own choice...

To speak, to write or to keep silent,

And in this context,

Silence often speaks volume of who you are

And who you ought to be.

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

Writing. And if the prose is true, then by God... how far am I from that perfection of silence! Babbling away in this almanac, on my FaceBook and Instagrams... yakedee yaking away in my writing. Hopeless.

Observations. I think it is true. For we all judge. And however we would like to take the 'Sufi' path of detachment, we still fall into error, judging everything and everyone that comes our way. Judge, judge, judge... Yet there is some truth in that we sometimes merely observe and not pass judgment. But the moment you speak, the moment you share your observation, how can it not be a judgment of sorts? And oh boy... have I been sharing my observations here in the blog. 

My son is ever concerned about my financial well-being. He is not stupid.

A Hermit? My 8-year old son Mika says that I ought to be a judge. "So you can make more money!", he assures me. But the truth is I am already a judge. Judging my way through life and collecting a jealousy here, an envy there, a bitterness here and a dollop of despair there. I have had quite enough of it already for several lifetimes already. Thanks, but no thanks. Perhaps it would be easier to run off and be a hermit on top of a mountain.

Waitaminute. Did I leave the front door unlocked?

High-wire Act. But we cannot withdraw ourselves from the world. For the way towards God in the Divine Presence (according to the Masters) is to outwardly be with people, but inwardly being constant with God... Hmm. Easier said that done that. It is a high-wire balancing act across the cosmos of our physical and spiritual existence. And the higher your knowledge, the higher your high-wire act! Oh dear. Where is my sense of balance!

Divine Vertigo. So I am resting from pursuing knowledge for awhile. And I am asking for better balance and better manners. The best of Adab as taught in the traditions of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.s.). Too high a knowledge and I would undoubtedly attain not Divine Presence, but vertigo. Madad ya Saideena Muhammad.

No more war. I think if we only remember these simple rules, there would be less bitterness, less violence, less wars. For  people would be more careful of what spills out their lips and through the ink of their pen, and insyaAllah (Godwilling), there would be no more bullets in the guns, no more missiles in the silos and no more bombs by the roadside.

God bless you, sunshine. Have a lovely day...

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

If Love needs to be tested, will Love allow you to be bested?

55. Love Test (2004)

I am He who heals all wounds

I am He who cherishes the afflicted

I am He whom you claim to love

What is love if it is not tested?

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

Love Test II (2012)

And if I am He whom you take Me to be,

Perfect in My love, Perfect in My mercy,

Do you think I am one to leave you alone

To face your test and to be bested?

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

God, through His prophets and revelations through the ages, from the time of Adam and Eve, through to Moses, Jesus and finally Muhammad, the Seal of the Prophets (s.a.w.s.) has again and again assured humanity of His abiding affection and concern for us. 

We only need to believe in His love and Mercy, which is beyond the capricious passions of Man, infinite in its breadth, absolute and certain in its substance. Isn't this what we have been yearning for all our lives?

Have a lovely Sunday, sunshine. I think you will score the test of love with flying colours with God by your side!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Our Memories is Greater than the Sum of all its Parts - life, death, mothers, masters and God

Bukit Kiara Cemetery, Kuala Lumpur.

Our Memories

Though you may not see Him,

Verily, He sees you,

Though you may not hear Him,

Verily, He hears you,

Though you may not remember Him,

Verily, He remembers you in good company,

Not a single moment has He left you in doubt,

Not a single page of your life that He has not read aloud,

Every glance, every tear that you shed,

Every laughter, every smile and playful pout,

All your joy and bitter regrets,

All your good and all your bad,

All your within and all your without,

Like a riverfall descending down the mountain side,

Like the little fishermen boats that run through the harbour,

You course through His thoughts as you make your way to Him,

To His sea and to His mercy,

And along the way,

You met me

And you helped make 

Our Memories.

…………………………..

Dearest mother,

How I miss your smile and laughter. Your impregnable optimism and your fire. How I miss your cooking, all that fish and vegetables. How I miss you bringing fruits and produce from other countries. How I miss you greeting the many friends and family who would come to our house, bringing light of laugh and love into our lives.

Dearest master,

How I miss your presence, silent and all-encompassing. How I miss the way you say my name. And how you made me feel. You were small in stature, but somehow you seemed to me seven feet tall. I still have your number in my cellphone. If I call it, who will now answer?

Dearest dearest,

You were ever present in these, the memories of my mother and my master. My beloved, benovelent, most kind and merciful Creator. I knew you were there. I had no doubt. For you have given me a life rich with love and laughter, tribulation and ease, success and failure. However my life has turned, I knew I had your undivided attention…

Alhamdulillah,

Arbayah binti Haji Hashim, somewhere in South England.

Subhanim Allah, Sultanim Allah, Nabim Muhammad alayhi salam.

Wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

My happiness is by their side

I await the Day