garbage in, garbage out

If you don’t fill your mind with beneficial things, then nothing beneficial can come out. Is this an excuse, or an expression of purity, and humbleness?

Everything’s blank, when there’s nothing left to fill. Empty spaces filled with nothing – if only the nothing was something, then anything would be everything.

As some have said when asked, ‘What’s is such and such worth?’ –

‘Nothing… and everything!’

Is that man’s nature, to ascribe worthlessness to what he owns, and simultaneously jealously guard what is his, as it means ‘everything’ to him? Is it a case of every man for himself? - He keeps what is his, and doesn’t want other hands to touch it. He will also, no doubt, crave more than what he has, and thus ruthlessly seek what others have, and try to attain it by any means, to grip it with his own hand, to say, ‘This is mine’. The emptiness is never filled.

This, however, is a state of the worst members of humanity, surely not a quality shared by all – at least in deed, if not in thought. Maybe all hearts have a share in this disease, but not everyone acts upon the desire to own. We can still hazard to have hope in humanity’s goodness, can’t we?

Isn’t there inherent goodness in all, as well as an inclination towards evil? If we examine ourselves, we can see those aspects which could be called ‘natural’, and could be categorised in either way. Let’s say anger, covetousness, greed and the like all comprise of evilness, especially if they become the focus of one’s life, and the motivation for one’s actions. Similarly, love, kindness, and pity (as long as it isn’t for the self) are good feelings, and the one who lives their life according to them will have goals seeking to unite humanity, and for the world to exist in peace and harmony.

Life is a choice, between living for one’s own advances, at the cost of anyone else, and still not attaining fulfilment, or living by love and kindness and seeking for the benefit of mankind as a whole.

What does this mean? Does everyone automatically feel that they would be happiest being the second kind? It seems like the best option to this author, but is that because of some bias, based on a particular cultural conditioning?

It seems that to care for the needy, be generous, love for one’s neighbour more than one loves for one’s own self, these are the deeds of goodness, and hence one who lives in this way would be considered good. Yes, it would be true, wouldn’t it, in any cultural setting?

There is, however, a crux. What if the reasons for a person’s ‘goodness’ are essentially for his own self-gratification, for his ‘good’ actions to be seen by other men, and his own ‘fulfillment’ is in his pride that he is so generous, loving and kind. What if one lives in this hypocritical state?

This is why the measure for all goodness has to come into focus - that anything and everything belongs to the Creator, the Sustainer, and ever-living God - even one’s own actions. So anyone who is doing anything should know that it is for or against that Originator of all things, the One who has power over your life and your death, and Whom you will stand before to be reckoned as to your deeds.

Perhaps the only true way to be fulfilled, is to fully realise one’s own emptiness, and worthlessness, and at the same time hope in the acceptance of one’s meagre deeds by the most Generous, Almighty. In this way at all times you will doubt that what good you do is sincere enough to be only for Him, and this helps one always stay mindful about each deed, and what it’s purpose is, thereby hopefully leaving you with an untarnished goodness, where your actions help to better the world and what is in it.

So it is true, that if you put garbage in, all that will come out is garbage, but if all your input is good, then your output will be pure, and good, and accepted by the Lord, and you will be one of the ones who is successful in this life, as well as the life hereafter.

Peace be upon you.

mixed paths

when all you see are good folks with wasting lives, what are you to do? even those who know the path towards success don't seem to pay attention to staying heading in the right direction.

so you've got them imitating the ones who've gone astray, and where does that leave them? hasnt all this been said before?

the man who's walking straight, or hopes to be in any case , this is the man who is looked upon as the strangest, that guy with all the hair on his face, 'what's wroong with him?' a social deadweight, a madman, an extremist, insert insult here - it's all been heard. (it's clear to him, of course, what the path is, of that he has no doubt - rather his doubts are centred around his own inability to avoid any type of mistaken self-assurance that he and only he is right, and something like that can lead him astray. however, in general, his way is the way, and his faults are his own, as everyone needs to deal with their own doings, so it is negligible compared to the bigger picture)

but here we step into a social conundrum, where everything turns head over tail, and one of the wandering ones decides to approach one of the guided men, and simply ask from a curiosity and a will to know, 'who are you?'

of course the man obliges, as he's not ashamed of who he is, indeed why should he be - (many of the guided ones should take note here, lest they have any apologetic tendencies!) he will answer truthfully (or at least truth-halfedly, because too much truth at any one time can be difficult to swallow - think about david icke and his lizard-people, and how not many can digest the truths he reveals because of his 'all-at-once' delivery), and more often than not his word will strike such a chord with the unexpecting questioner, that all their preconceptions readily fall by the wayside.

now, this in itself can shock them, as to how willing their inner essence is to immediately and openly trust this bearded wise person, and this throws up inside them a type of resistance, and an inner voice will say, 'don't listen to him - he's mad', 'he's talking about ancient things, of no relevance today, in our modern times'. then comes the crux for them - if their original question was asked from a perspective of willingness to know, with sincerity, then perhaps that first openness and purity will win over, and both can benefit from the other, in a 'symbiosis of gnosis' for want of a better term. however, if that vicious, cynical voice wins over, and the questioner didnt have that sincerity required, their conversation will bear no fruits, and deepen prejudices, and lead to a quagmire of tangled misconceptions.

we all are plagued by these thoughts - they come from a part of the psyche which lives according to reliance on the status quo, an unwillingness for change. if someone brings up a concept that you've never heard of, but that quiet, 'good' part of you knows it to be true, then very usually you will face resistance from another part of yourself which doesn't want things as they are to become any different, unless animalistic desires can be fulfilled in doing so.

so it is this which we need to ask ourselves. how many times has one of these situations happened to us, where our inner voice is inclined towards the truth in another's words, but we have allowed our desire to cause us to ignore it?
Have we ever passed by a sincere advisor's advice before? simply because we didn't want to change our own state?

we have all been tried with this scenario, so it forces us to think,

'how honestly am i seeking for truth?'

'how many times have i ignored a truth that i knew to be true, only to further my own cause or to fulfill a desire?'

why dont we look again at the strange man, trying to tell us truths. maybe if we ask him the right questions, with the right sincerity, and eagerness for truth, that we might actually attain it, and then we can become strange just like him...

imagination

Isn't the imagination a fickle thing?

when one wants to churn out ideas they don't come, and when one's not concentrating on having good ideas they flow, and there's no reservoir to catch them, so they drift into that endless sea of lost opportunities..

is it a testament to one's abilities; that they oscillate over time, that they depend on other things in one's life, or that there are certain actions one can perform which increase one's imaginative powers - that one can overcome the burdens of reality and produce pearls of wisdom, or perhaps filter them into a palpable, and digestible form? perhaps that sentence was too long..

does each and every person's imagination differ, and the extent to which one's imagination flows is directly related to the free-reign you give it?, or does it depend on one's 'intelligence'? perhaps both are the same thing?

there are academics everywhere who could perhaps explain this away simply, but for amateur imagineers like your author, we attempt to probe these concepts in our own fashion, not caring too much for conformity or the perceived norm (in this topic, as in most aspects of life).

and it is this quality which leads us to uncompromisingly seek truth, where-ever it may be, and to aim to overcome our urges to pre-judge a possible truth by all the flavours surrounding it. if everyone was prepared to do the same perhaps the world would become a much nicer place to be in.

not that our world is bad, rather there are many aspects of our world which have had bad effects on humanity's imagination; influences which serve to dull the minds, and trap the mass perception under a veil of acceptance - acceptance that what is is the norm, and anything other than that is a mistake, that to think outside the box is a sign that one has stepped beyond the bounds of what is commonly perceived (and agreed) to be sanity.

where does that leave us - treading the fine line between genius and insanity? rather the lines only exist if one 'imagines' that they do, therefore any limitations are only what you've placed upon yourself (perhaps with more than a little goading-on from those who seem to have that edge in influencing mass opinion).

what is the purpose of our discussion? well, on the surface, and topically it focuses on each and every one of humanity's need to utilise their power of imagination - not to live in a dream-world, because that is the realm of fools, and it is only another side to the coin of mass-control (think about all that TV you are encouraged to watch, and the products you are expected to buy - the stupider the better), but here we are talking about awareness - to open one's mind by using the power to see what is beyond the apparent, to the real over-arching truth , by using the God-given power of imagination.

Allah has created us differently than the animal, because the animal doesn't have the power to contemplate what is beyond the senses, the unseen. it can be argued that many humans have given up that right (perhaps through compulsion, but we cannot say), and so leave themselves in a state worse than the animal, because at least the animal by its very existence is fulfilling it's purpose.

So what is the crux of our little piece of advice? the over-arching truth that we speak of... - it becomes apparent when your turn your mind to the real purpose of life - that the certainty of death is one truth that there is no escape from, that there is undoubtedly an eternity waiting after death, and that you will meet your Lord.

then life becomes a time and place for contemplating your Lord and preparing for the meeting with Him, to be in the best state of awareness that you can be in before death comes, so that there will be a glimmer of a chance that you will rest in His favour. you owe this to yourself, and more importantly, you owe it to your Lord, who has blessed you with so many things, not least that amazing power of imagination.

so use it my friends. we are all in the same boat.

as has been said, 'come on people now, smile, i'm your brother, everybody get together - try to love one another right now...'

home

'home is where the heart is', it is said.

home, that ethereal, unpalpable thing, is it a place or a feeling?
if your heart is in a place then does that place become your home?

some say, 'where i lay my head is home' -
so perhaps somewhere in between is where we should aim to be.

the blessed Prophet (May Allah's peace and blessing be upon him) was forced to leave Makkah after three years of continuous persecution by the unbelievers in the city, and as he left the city for al-Madinah in Yathrib he looked back and expressed how dear the place was to his heart.

yet, after ten years, when the muslims re-entered Makkah as victors, and the Ka'bah became the centre of Islam, Muhammad (May Allah's peace and blessings be upon him) decided to return to live out his days in Madinah.

once you live anywhere for a period of time it becomes a home, but the place of origin always holds a special place in the heart. Allah (exalted is He) made the earth to be travelled over, and nowadays it is so easy to get anywhere (apart from visa restrictions and such in some places which of course is one of the wrongs in our world). then He made some places more special than others, like Makkah of course, being centre of the world, then Sham (Palestine, Jordan, Syria and Lebanon) and Yemen. (this has been related through our blessed Prophet (the Peace of Allah and His blessings be upon him)).

so obviously there is merit in being in these lands, but to travel to other lands is also beneficial, especially in carrying light from place to place, and fulfilling the whole purpose of Islam - to show others the way of Truth, and the path to success and happiness in this life and in the Hereafter, and the means to attain the love of Allah, both coming from the Almighty and in one's ownself.

because the real home is the place your heart yearns for most, and the people of understanding exert their yearning towards that home in the Paradise, firdaus-ul-'ala, and to be brought near to Allah (exalted is He) is their goal. and what a goal. there is nothing higher than that.

so lets exert ourselves - be in our lives among those who live as if they are travellers, and strangers - people seeking their true home, and that palpable safety of everlasting peace and happiness. our life here is like a man who was travelling, and for a while he rested in the shade of a tree, then to continue on his journey..

let's follow Muhammad's way (May Allah bless him and give him peace), and take him as our guide on the way home.

whispered (a second sonnet)

Evil thoughts they come - your resolve to break,

Disguised lies and half-truths come from nowhere,

At night when you're half 'tween sleep and awake -

To lead down roads of darkness and despair.

Diseased words and manifested regret,

Remembered - consciously solidified.

Old promises that have never been kept -

Too weak to fulfill, too frightened to die.

Water wont wash away those twisted fears,

They remain inside like frozen, dead weight.

Unmeltable, no release of warm tears,

Mere loneliness for you to contemplate.

Turn, repenting to the One Friend above -

He is the Source of peace and endless love.

my first ever sonnet: on man

man makes things more difficult for himself,
because he's got nothing better to do.
he wont take the help of anyone else,
he's afraid to walk in another's shoes.
arguing he can't find a solution,
not even looking for one anyway,
instead wandering in blind confusion
expecting to find an answer some day.
ego hurt by this inability
self-esteem shattered almost to the core.
revealed man's innocent fragility.
he doesn't want to exist any more.
oh man, dont take these problems to heart.
force the self into making a new start..

handful of dust

There hasn't been any word of the ones who went away,
Letters didnt arrive like had been expected.
Whispers on the wind. Echoes bound off a vast mountain,
Who's roots hadnt really so much to explore -
Yet deepened, and fastened, holding on.
Old wives tales; from marauding tiger to kingdom come
We haven't heard enough to understand what we say.
Ideas hadn't had time to become realised,
Shadows in the cave. Fading world is a crumbled dream,
Who's images werent captured in any sense of the word -
But remembered, unforgotten, reassured.

There's one of the ones who's been fooled -
Fooled into thinking it's easy to unexist.
Reasoned to a wish that all turns to dust -
And blows away. To immateriality...
Now, in dream's essence the spirit has always been,
Since blown into the mould and held in esteem,
And holding to account it's own peurile promise -
A Just action. Your own doings are wrong.
And forgotten naivetes emerge and solidify.
A script already written - pages acted but unread.

A hand deftly, and timidly lifts a curtain,
While the observers turn away, wings covering teary eyes.
Dark timelessness beyond, an unavoidable inevitibility -
Not dead you are, and not living.
Peerless possibility. Fallen to your knees.

vs

spring rains tho summer's peaked out once or twice, but it hasnt settled into a pattern as of yet, and things are generally going that way in these times. it's a slight disorder perhaps harking to greater things. there's definite turbulence, everywhere, and at this poor man's door the ripples can be felt. it was a matter of time before it came to be, and didnt come unexpected.

perhaps its a case of now being ready to face those realities, having had the time required to settle into the correct mode of understanding, so now its time to stand there and not to waver, no matter how many ripples turn into waves, designed to let yourself be washed away..

its a hearkening back to those days when we were in the belly of the whale, in the darknesses of misguidance, then the only Guide is the same as how now the Guide is the One, and the path has been lighted, so you just take strength from that and carry on. being, thankful to have been shown the path in the first place, yet still calling anyone along the way to come- as Rumi said, 'ours is the caravan...' so come all wanderers, let us go along together..

the wolf only succeeds with the lone sheep, so stick close to us.

diversity leads us a long way from home, but belief is security, wherever you may be, and the final home for the secure souls is pure peace, and security from all wickedness.

so what's a little trouble faced while on the road to your home but a trifle? an obstacle that can be skipped over and left in it's own non-existence. it may seem that the power is with the wicked, and that name may be applied to the good, but these are the days when a lie becomes truth and goodness is scorned.

lets be good, and let them scorn, cos as they've always said, 'he who laughs last laughs longest'.

pray that we are the ones who laugh for eternity...

quango?

Wandering in soft delusion
As the world has taken hold
Momentary soft confusion
As the tale slowly unfolds.
Trying to take a decision that's already said and done
But in our time we cant see what is to come
Heart is not totally at peace with whatever it's to do
Still jolted from far corners into which it's been flung.

You're one of the characters in this nursery rhyme
Though til this time it's all been just a dream
Dark clouds and lonely mountains you've climbed
But nothing's ever been what it seemed.

Tear the veil from your eyes
Stare, and hold them open wide
Look and see what's meant to be
Face the fear felt inside.

What's real? Look in the glass
See the last drop slip away
And the crumbled dust residue.
Think of the time that has passed
Years, months, weeks and days
And have you ever had a clue?

The dark mark is around your heart
And the light's not shining through.
It's the self that's been released
The first one you need to fight is you...

Where are we?

'Dont you ever feel lost?', an old man asked his wife, as they lay in their beds one cold dark night. 'But of course not, now I lay here with you', she replied.

How many years they'd lain together, and parented, full of pain and delight? Never thinking past the necessities until the moment one of them died.

The ancient scissors snipped the cord of life - an umbilical tube connected to the realm of life, and edge-of-the-seat pre-eternal existence.

The life squeezed out, til the body just crumbles to the floor through the hands of the wife, all panicked grief and superstitious insistance.

'It cannot be', she cries, 'why couldnt it be me?' and she screams her anger at a power she cant percieve, and no longer deny.

'That's what some had called a 'cross to bear'', she supposed she had to agree, but on what then is there left for her to rely?

She hadn't thought about herself in all that time, even in grief giving her all to the children she felt it was her reason to serve as a mother.

But little thanks they gave, being just as dazed and unseeing and focussed on self. Unquestioning, and meandering as any other.

There's nothing so terrible than when the mother who gives her all is shunned by those she loves more than she ever thought could be true.

And it drives her to ruin, and terminal unappreciation, and ill-health. And a prodigal son's unfeasible, cos he doesnt have a clue.

He drove her to her own grave, in his selfishly indulgent infatuation, and ingratitude. The terminal disease of individualisation.

No cross-bearing revolutionary slave, or simple human platitudes. Only 'Me, me, me', and a barcode of the faceless generation.

But deep down in the darkness, of a cruel heart, stirred beauty, and love and that umbilicular, natural light of the gestational bond.

It couldnt be buried along with all that influence of chemicals and material unreality, so true love isnt dead and gone.

Then the eyes and hearts are brought alive by the Light, they turn back to their source, the Almighty One at the beginning and never having an end.

Glorify to Whom it is due, and the links of love come real and back to where they should be, and God is the Only true protecting friend.

Then to Him we belong, and to Him we return, after to dust we have been interned. So the husband's question can finally be replied.

The Truth deserves more than to be just ignored, now it is the Truth we have learned. Family submit together and together we lie.

a lingo fandango

there's a new language, its called human unity
a throwback to the beginning of humanity
today its only whom travels on the same road
who converse in tongues but all's understood
there's no confusion when we're drawn to the source
racing to reach a goal before we crumble
the resistors break and come to dust
swept over the line like scrapped waste
and life's renewed and water ressurrects
like a seed bursting into life.
the winners have no gall with this
they were always prepared
but a loser can never return to a race that's been run
as chance never remits once it's gone.
run to the light, and call everyone
you deserve to give them the chance too

we all crumble to death under the sun

the bomb, and the nursing mothers

who's got the bomb? do we forget who's holding the most dangerous cards?

What incoherant ignorance. We're expected to fear Iranians and Koreans (but only northern ones), whilst the evilest have the most dangerous weapons, and the insanity to use them, of course, in a 'pre-emptive strike', to 'defend' themselves from their own paranoia. And of couse it doesnt work, because their real fear is from Allah, but since they cant/wont admit His existence, they have to blame it on anything else whatsoever.

Then humanity spirals into retalitiatory, re-actionary tactics, propounding ,'they did it to us', as if that excuses their actions, or provides any kind of an excuse. 'unreasonable behaviour', and the big baboo screams his spewed hatred onto the streets, and the lapdogs lick it up, holding onto false promises coming from those lying mouths. Gaping and speading mistrust and paranoid vitriol. This is fodder for stupidly innocent 'ordinary folk', who only live to quench their desires and be led into the pit...

the dogs chew on the scraps from their masters' tables, not knowing that they have a right to an equal share. the master stands on the crumbs, even defacates, yet the panting worm-mongrels only bay for their special treat.

no nourishment, a babe fed fom a dried-up teat. sanctioned by war-mongers and population erasers, then medicaments sold to those starving as a substitute for nutrients. a scrawny face looks on as its moher spoons one more scoop of condensed chemical sawdust into bacteria-choked water. oh, our wonderful world.

now an occupation, racially idealistic, and fanatically exteme can get away with wiping away children, and women, and old men. who deserves? Allah knows best.

taming bears?

well, perhaps posting comes easier these days, when time hasnt frozen, but one seems to have enough to go around. perhaps a false sense of security?

philosophy is really 'love of knowledge' and theology puts it into context.

life is religion,

and Islam is the natural state, conditioned.

and finalised.

these are self-evident truths and dont negate themselves. there is no subjectivity, but reason requires experience of what is true to complete its essence.

still with me?

we all have our own bears to tame

Read, and it will come

Today, I thought of what comes out of a human. It's all fine and good if it comes out the back, but what if it comes out of your mouth, or fingers as you type, and that toxic by-product of a corrupted mind is just waste, and poison to any who taste it...

a sensory perception, our only link to knowing anything.

'Read, In the name of your Lord who created. Created mankind from a clot (which clings). Read and your Lord is the most generous. The One who taught by the pen. Taught man that which he did not know... '

(From chapter 96 of Noble Qur'an)

Now, if we ponder that, even though English is deficient in comprehending the inferred meanings, I will give my personal perspective on how this chapter causes me to think. Of course I have the benefit of being able to read it in Arabic, and for that all praise is for Allah. I didnt know Arabic before...

So if we look to the chapter - 'Read', it says. Now without our senses it is not easy to read. What do we need in order to read? We need to perceive. So our Lord has created light, which bounces off the page and enlightens our eyes and then the nerve endings send impulses and our brain reads them, and a picture forms in our mind (all beyond our control, that is, unless we refuse to perceive, but that would be ignorance and blindness). Then by that wonderous operandus we come to understand.

So we're told to read, but also directed towards the obvious, that one cannot read unless something has been written, so the pen is mentioned. The pen is the instrument for inscribing the information, which is to be read, and gradually understood (by Allah's will).

What a blessing that we, who began as a mere 'clot' of cells, clinging to our mother's uterine wall, in the safest darkness of comfort and miraculous growth, absorbing nutrients just as a leech draws blood from it's host (which is also included in a varient meaning of the word for 'clot' in Arabic), came into this world. So grand and spacious compared to that dark womb - but what did we know then?

Nothing. And now? Now you're reading this, and I have written it, and by God's will both of us undertstand something of it, and if we learn, then what a generous gift from our Lord to us - that we have the capacity to assimilate knowledge.

And all is from Him, and we all return to Him, when He decides.

Of course, all has been written in the Book of Destiny, which has been written before anything occurred. God created the pen, and told it to write. It said, ' What will I write?'. 'Write everything from the beginning until the last day'.

The pen has been lifted and the ink on the pages has dried.

swept away

Another wrinkle, another year older,
Another line in the sand.
When are you gonna cross
to the other side?
When are you gonna be a man?

There's a grey hair, there's time flying by
There's someone left behind.
Wont you take heed from this
and change while you still can?
Are you seeing the signs?

It's clear, it's reality,
It's something you cant deny.
Why dont you pay off your dues
and clean the slate?
Do you know when you're gonna die?

Tommorrow will come, tomorrow is death,
Tomorrows you'll never have again.
What have you prepared
for endless eternity?
Permanent pleasure or everlastiing pain?

Success is a choice, success is life,
Success is the only way to choose.
Do you coose to be blinded
to the choice available to you?
Would you rather win or lose?

So come on, so admit the truth,
So many chances have passed away.
Dont you feel the need
to submit yourself to the Lord?
What more could I say?