Happy to be Unknown in the Only Truth that Deserves to be Known - Mika and Rihanna...

Mikhail's endless 'Papa this...' and 'Papa that...' drives me crazy.
But happiness is... listening to a trans-pacific call
from your 8 year old son saying the exact same thing. 

1. Each second it gets better and better

Each second of my life,

Each moment that comes

Is more beautiful,

More honoured and more blessed

Than the last moment

Preceding it.

For you see, the division

Of time is illusory,

It is a necessary condition

Of existence when God created

And ordered the Sun to precede the Moon,

As day turns into night,

And seasons come and go.

For the truth is that

Time and space

Is one single giant canvas,

And the Lord whom I know and love

Is an Artist of Unimaginable Brilliance

Who would not leave a single colour and shade

In my life which was not beautiful and meaningful

With the true essence of Divine love and understanding!

Am I frightened to know this?

Of course, I am!

Am I happy to know this?

Happy beyond words!

Happy to know, happy to be known,

Happy to be unknown in the only Truth

That deserves to be known!

Goodbye and peace of heaven to thee, seekers!

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

Spotted!

It doesn't take much to make me pleased. Earlier today, Mikhail, my 8-year old son called from LA, California. It seems that the entire family of his mum, Gina and his stepdad Herman, saw Rihanna (yes, the umbrella singer... who else?). Mika was less than impressed by the sighting (after all, she is JUST a girl) but he sounded happy, and of that I am glad.

I cannot stay long, sunshine. Too many chores to run back here in Malaysia.

The prose was in fact recorded more than 3 years ago. I am contented to see that things haven't changed. And indeed, if things have changed, it has changed for the better. So as the poem ends, so does this posting... Goodbye and peace of heaven to thee, seekers!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

BEAUTY IN ART AND MUSIC - no one made this, the One (God) made this...

An artist at the door of his famous studio in Lefke, Cyprus.

I am Owned, so No Ownership Here

In my courtship of Muhammad, Prophet of God

I wish I could claim authorship of all this prose,

But truth be told, how can I claim to write

Something that is already written ... 

In his beautiful grace,

In his benevolent demeanour,

In his loving gaze,

In his patience,

In his devotion to duty,

In his tender ministration,

In his generous mercy,

And in his enduring mission

To heal our heart and raise us

From the ignominy

Of our sins and folly,

By asking, again and again…

“Look at me! Follow me!”

So how can I claim ownership?

Owned as I am already

By the Prophet Muhammad

Who is unto the worlds ordained

As God’s Sweetness of Mercy.

……………………….

The Blue Mosque, Istanbul.

God the Artist. Poets who write prose, writers who write books, architects who raise mighty minaret-ed mosques in glory of the Lord and the Lord's Beloved (pbuh), artists who carve or draw ornate pictures and designs, dervish dancers and singers for the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) all must ultimately resign themselves to this state of confession that verily, they cannot claim authorship of what they do in their chosen fields. For it would be akin to a traveler walking through a meadow of unsurpassed beauty and purity and then declaring, "I made this!"

No, no one made this. Only the One (God) made this and the artists and builders are simply bearing witness unto His heart-breaking Love and Beauty, and mind-breaking Creativity and Power. It is this intimacy that all artists and builders desire to provoke in the hearts of those who may read, listen, watch or contemplate over their labours of love.

And foremost in their labour of love is their untiring courtship of Muhammad Habibullah (pbuh), yearning above all else to be guided by the Most Beloved to the All-Loving. For it is the lore that when God first created the NurMuhammad (Light of Muhammad), He was Most Pleased by what He saw, and thereupon issued forth all of creation, from the Pen and the Tablet and the Throne, to the Angels and the Heavens and Hells, to the Djinns of the smokeless fire and to Man of clay and water, and all creatures and spirits both seen and unseen of all the world(s).

Love makes the world go round? Without love, sunshine, no world would have ever existed.

Life in the Artists' Commune: A bunch of artists and their Mentor and Grand Muse. Alas, one of the artists (al-marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman) has passed on, and like many artists before him, his work is now greatly prized and sought. They are hanging in the antechamber of his mureed's hearts. But I don' t think any of his mureed would part with his work for all the jewel and gold of this world.
al fatiha

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Spiritual Hobo and The Spiritual Bourgeois - How to write Songs and Prose

A songwriter is driven by his feelings. I know of one famous songwriter with a large portfolio of beautiful songs before his conversion to Islam. The songs were sincere, melancholy and yearning, with a certain edginess in his music which attracted me.

After he converted to Islam, well... the songs are still rather good. But I could sense the feeling of contentment and satisfaction in the music - A 'I-am-home-already' sorta sentiment which permeates through the music and lyrics. And that is good for him personally, but for me it has lost that 'I-am-lost-I-need-to-find-my-way-back' drama and tension which rippled to the surface of his older songs.

I was talking to my brother about it, and I (cruelly, I think) commented that this musical phase as being the songwriter's 'spiritual bourgeois' phase - That middle-class suburban reality of self-satisfaction you achieve when you think that you have "made it". There is not much edginess or grit in this sort of music. The 'Blues' mood of separation, solitude, rejection, yearning and desire just fell away from the songs.

I hope that at a metaphorical level, we shall always be like hobos riding on a freight train of God. Not knowing where we might end up, living life a day at a time, a loaf of bread and an apple a day, utterly in the Mercy of the Lord who made us all. Because frankly, there is really no other way to write beautiful prose or songs.

The Love is in the searching and yearning. So may our search and yearning never end.

Have a lovely day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

In the Temple of Love there was George Benson... and Almighty God had a question to ask.

In 2004 I wrote…

156. Jihadi I

While you are fighting the small jihad*

The Devil is fighting the big jihad**.

And guess what? He is winning!

* The so-called ‘holy war’ self-proclaimed and driven by unholy hubris and damn despair
** The one in your heart. The one that actually truly matters.

IN YOUR HEART. It makes sense, you see. Bullets can maim and kill your body. But it is hate (and fear, envy, bigotry, hubris… well, all the negative stuffs) that is the bullet that can actually kill you and me. This horrible tune that beats a different rhythm to the music of love. In fact it cancels out love. Because if we cannot live in Love, then truly we are dead to the world, dead to ourselves, dead to God and His Nabi. No amount of speculation and earnest religious application will save you if you lose the basic bedrock, the foundation and the essential cornerstone of the Temple of Love that is you.

IN YOUR EYES. I love this song by George Benson (Click Here), a titan amongst the love crooners. And I think it is simply too naïve for us to limit this song to a romantic interlude of a man and a woman. As I would often exclaim to my friends (who would often shake their heads with resignation) “This is a Prophet’s song!”

A girl who I love once said, “You are SUCH a sweet talker!” I simply replied, “You cannot blame me for saying sweet things, when the truth is sweet.”

IN GOD’S EYES. And really, it is exactly the same vis-à-vis God. We say such lovely things about Him, we say He is Totally Amazing and Beautiful in countless ways. We cry lonely tears of happiness, away from the crowd, thinking, “How can You love me so…?” We look at our family, friends and lovers, and we muse, “Why do You fill my life with so many treasures?” And when hurt and regretful, we yearn, “Oh God…” until finally, a day will come when you are brought before the Divine Presence, and God Almighty questions you before all of Creation, and asks, “How can you say such sweet things about Me?” and to which you would give the same reply… “You cannot blame me for saying sweet things, when the truth, the Truth of what You Truly Are is heartbreakingly sweet.”

I am no innocent. I have been to places I shouldn’t have been, I have done things which I cannot tell my mama. Yet I think God still loves me. I squirm and my hair stand on ends when I think about this… as each morning the day greets me and I feel that “God, You have not forsaken me…”

And really, I don’t think He ever will. It is not in His Nature.

May I be there, sunshine, to see you squirm with happiness in the Divine Court. Hehehe

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote – Dear readers, please find me another article which can fit in George Benson, the false jihad, the great jihad, the Devil, God, the Temple of Love and the Divine Court all in one posting… and I will happily eat my shoe.