The Sum of All My Worries…

Peace, one and all…

I wrote this poem a couple weeks ago.  Enjoy….

O Lord!  Help me escape the self-made prison of my evil deeds!  Ya Rahman!  Grant me purity of intention.

‘I am the sum of all my worries,
all my fears are laid out before me.
And secretly, I love my Worry.
The familiarity of my fear comforts me,
like an ill-fitting coat
that I am loath to remove.
If I could reach beyond myself,
then my worries would fade away:
but then,
what would I replace them with?’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Ramadan 2006: Summing Up & Looking Forward

Peace, one and all…

In the Name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.

Ya Allah!  Accept all of my good deeds of Ramadan and let them be a purification for me.  O Lord!  In Your mercy, pass over my faults and evil deeds.

Subhan Allah!  Is it really a week since Ramadan ended?  It’s already beginning to feel like a distant past, lived in a far away land!  The question to answer then is: how did I fare in Ramadan 2006?  How did it compare with past Ramadans?  How did I compare with previous versions of myself?  Where to now, in the week since my small ship began sailng on the high seas once more?

On one level, I’m not sure I can answer any of these questions.  After all, God’s judgement is the only one that really matters.  And, if I measure myself by (my perception of) His Justice then I fall short.  I could have done more, I could have said more.  But, as the saying goes, ‘if ifs and ands were pots and pans…..’.  There’s no use crying over spilt milk, especially as I’m not very good at judging myself with justice and/or mercy.

But, taking the bull by the horns, on the whole Ramadan 2006 was a success.  Or, rather, I learned one important thing; and my selfish heart only has room enough for one lesson at a time!  The lesson?  Well, in short, that my Path towards God lies within myself.  That is, the innermost secret of religion is about finding that qalbun salim (sound heart) within myself and then in polishing it until God’s light shines through.  Thus, during Ramadan I’ve been looking inwards, checking my motivations and trying to listen to what my Heart is saying to me.  I’ve not been as obsessed by outward performance as I have been in the past: in fact, this year it’s not even bothered me as much.  Perhaps I’m starting to leave my in-built guilt (hey a rhyme!) behind.

As I said in an earlier post, one of Ramadan’s hidden blessings is the ability to see into the heart more clearly during this month.  Shaitan is locked away and though this means many things, it also allows us to realise our true state (should we be ready to look).  I tried my level best to look at myself during Ramadan, to try and strip away all the pretence, all the superficial justifications.  And, the 69 million dollar question, what did I see there?  Good and bad mixed together; an honest soul, with dishonest desires; a man wanting to find himself and a lover needing the Beloved.

I found lots there that I need to work on.  There are some minor things and some very major things.  I won’t go into details here, suffice it to say that there’s a lot of work to be done.  But, with God’s help, I will continue to struggle along.

Where to now?  Well, the inner war continues apace.  The task now is to fashion and strengthen my inner weapons.  I’m aware of the need to keep going, to keep reflecting.   Thus I’ll keep on blogging for now, just as I’ll keep on writing poetry (insha Allah). I’ve also signed up with the Threshold Society’s 99 Day Programme (which should start soon God willing).  And, more broadly, I’m going to start visiting sufi lodges/tekkes/zawiyas in order to begin meeting fellow travellers in the flesh, insha Allah.  These are my plans for the coming year, along with keeping up my Arabic studies and taking a couple of Sunnipath courses if possible (and God makes easy every deed).

So, that draws my Ramadan 2006 diary to a close.  Whatever was right and true was from God, Lord of all the Worlds.  Whatever was faulty and wrong was from Shaitan and my own wayward soul.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Words of Counsel…

Peace, one and all…

This poem is of recent vintage and is my response to a particular situation.  Enjoy…

Ya Allah! The Road towards You is littered with dead ends.  Guide me, Lord.

‘Don’t be sad,
for all souls are battered and bruised
in Life’s unsubtle school.
All must face their share of envy,
their share of grief.
Credit those near you with goodness of heart
and put aside your unworthy comparison.
Think long and think hard:
was it really a deed uncharitable?
Look once more with kinder eyes
and see the sorrow your unhappy pain has caused.
Be like a mirror and reflect:
on where you are,
how you got there,
and where you go from here.
Answers will come to you -
fresh from God’s Eye -
once you see these things with the sight of truth.
A problem shared, is a problem halved
says the truthful proverb.
Yet I would add this:
‘Pain thrown wide, is merely pain increased’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Old Love Songs…

Peace, one and all…

Here’s something else I’m working on.  It’s a little ecstatic, or at any rate that’s my excuse for poor structure.

Ya Allah!  How the soul yearns for You!

‘I just can’t stop listening to old love songs:
ballads of far away and long ago,
tales of hearts sighing with ache for the arrival of spring.
Amidst the words of a man’s love for a woman,
and a woman’s for a man,
lies another Love:

‘I’ll meet You on a bus at dawn,
an open top one if it’s warm,
and if the flowers are in bloom,
I’ll lose myself in You’*

Old love songs dance around my head and I see stars.
All sense has been knocked out of me: I’m raving!
Beneath each song lies a deeper song,
a melody more fervent
and a rhythm more profound
than any I have ever known.
Sometimes It draws near to the surface,
like a Beloved predator seeking its victim.

The feeling descends:
my seeing becomes honey,
my hearing becomes honey,
my smelling becomes honey:
everything turns to roses in bloom.

But not yet, not yet.
Old love songs still circle my soul,
until my old loves fall away to reveal
my One True Love beneath’.

* – These words were taken and adapted from a Paul Weller song entitled ‘Clues’.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Big Enough for Us Both…

Peace, one and all…

Here’s something I’m working on…

‘Don’t be afraid.
I’m not angry and I don’t hate you.
I’m just a man, like you -
no more, no less.
And though my wife’s apparel may
seem strange to you,
she too is just a woman -
with all the strengths and passions,
concerns and fears
of your wife, your mother, your daughter.
Although there are many voices in this world
who would have you believe otherwise,
we are not so dissimilar.
And, when we meet
let’s leave the prejudices of others,
to others, and speak words of peace.
Your beliefs may not be mine
and mine may not be yours: so?
Isn’t the world big enough for us both?’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

The Levy Breaks (or Poetry Overflowing 2)…

Peace, one and all…

During the last week, I’ve written a few poems (al hamdu lillah).   As I’ve polished them a bit, I thought I’d share them with you all.  The last few have been rather dark.  So, let me ask for your pardon – it appears that God wants me to feel the consequences of my actions (and I submit myself to His decree).

Songs of Expansion, Songs of Contraction (or, I am a Bellows)

‘God expands and God contracts
and God does all that He wills;
In His hands, I am a bellows,
expanded and contracted to heat a fire
and fires are for curing winter’s chill.

When God expands,
new vistas open,
new pathways emerge,
new choices unfold
and the world becomes a garden.
In these times, my heart rises
to embrace each lesson,
as He pours them out upon my very soul.

And when God withholds His grace,
the world contracts:
all paths become narrow,
the hilltops obscure themselves in mist
and life becomes as sharp and as bitter as a thorn.
At these times, each breath
becomes narrow
and the fire grows fierce indeed:
fire’s purpose is also to burn away dross.

And yet, His decree,
though wrapped in garments severe,
is really the lightening
which heralds the arrival of His life-giving rain,
for those with ears to hear.
And, though I fear contractions,
in reality, are they not birth pangs,
for some greater life as yet unknown?

Drinking Poison

‘If you continue to drink poison,
how long will your heart retain life?
If you continue to plunge blades of ice
into your innermost heart,
how long will you be able
to stave off the cold?
The more you stray from Him,
the more you will stray towards
one accursed,
and that outcast renegade has no love for you!
Aye! No love for you at all!

I Stood in the Bookshop

‘I stood in the bookshop,
with my hard-earned money to spend.
Eager, excited, hopeful
in my search for the Beloved Friend.

Debating my choices, I rose
unsure of which path to take.
Seeking nearness and closeness to God,
and having a thirst to slake.

Follow Love, choose Me and be free,
a voice in my head did say.
For the Road is long without Love,
which shortens and makes fast the Way’.

Thank You My Lord

‘Thank You my Lord for the gift of poetry,
for my soul rises with joy
when it sees how close You truly are.
Your gift allows me to express,
though in faltering and uncertain words,
my Love for You,
which is a reflection
of Your Love for me.
Ya Rahman! Your mercies and favours are uncounted
and my tongue would weary
before I could begin.
So, accept these words as my small gift to You
for the sincere gratitude of my unworthy hands
is all that I have to offer’.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

This Ugly Raven…

Peace, one and all…

Here’s another offering.  The subject of tonight’s vigil is clearly tawba.  O Allah!  Forgive me!

‘This ugly raven
has pulled its wings out by the roots again:
for shame, for shame!
This ugly raven
writhes once more in humiliated agony!
So heap dust upon your unworthy head once more.
And, until the raven’s wounds heal,
earthbound, and forbidden to fly, the foolish bird will remain’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

A Draught Made Bitter…

Peace, one and all…

Here’s another personal reflection on my own wrong-doing.  Ya Allah!  Stand by me, as my guilty sins pour out of me like vomit!

‘I must partake of this draught made bitter,
made bitter through corruption’s stain.
I must drain this cup of all its contents,
for at the bottom lies a secret.
Beyond this unpleasant accounting lies a garden,
just as a rose is found amidst painful thorns.
In need, I partake of this unwholesome brew,
as a child must perforce taste bitter medicine.
And now comes the time for sickness;
all my corrupt intentions and selfish deeds
pour forth as vomit,
or as dark blood from the centre of my rank heart.
O Lord!  Let there be life after this bloodletting!’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

In This Marketplace…

Peace, one and all…

Here’s another poem on wrong-doing.  Ya Allah!  I repent to You and seek Your forgiveness.

‘Sharp pain carves knots into my living soul,
and the pit of my stomach is transformed into the dark abyss.
I have wrought corruption upon the earth’s face
and have spent of my self, in wasted mischief.
Chains of bitter fury bite into my soul’s flesh,
jagged teeth, razor sharp, tear their way inwards.
The world around us is a bazaar,
where every misbegotten deed must be paid for in full.
Dark deeds require payment in dark coin,
restitution is the only currency acceptable.
In this marketplace, credit does not exist,
neither is there any escape from your Creditor.
Account for yourself, O Soul;
What plea do you offer, now that your guilt is established?
Poverty of spirit is no excuse,
no excuse at all!

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

How I Became a Madman…

Peace, one and all…

The following poem was written by Kahlil Gibran and is taken from his book, The Madman.  How true it is!  Ya Haqq!

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen — the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives — I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “He is a madman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Travelling in Mist…

Peace, one and all…

This poem leads on from the last, in that it speaks of the ultimate end of action: judgement.  O Lord!  Help us and judge us with Your mercy, for we would all fall short if measured by Your justice!

‘Deeds good and bad,
are all inscribed upon a record clear;
words no one will read,
before the Day of Hisab.
Until then, every child of Adam exists
in perpetual un-knowing:
unsure of our place,
uncertain of our true estate,
like a journey through mist.

And when, in this earthly realm, we travel amidst fog
we greet those we meet with loving concern
and careful attention.
Why is it then as we journey through mist towards the Hereafter,
where none is certain of the homecoming they will face,
that we wound our fellow travellers
and treat them with scant regard.
Truly, Beloved, what fools we are!’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

All Those I’ve Ever Wronged…

Peace, one and all…

This poem is about tawba and all the wrongs I’ve ever committed.  Ya Allah!  Help me to repent truly.  Ya Rahman!  Help me as I repent! 

‘If all those I’ve ever wronged stood before me
what would I say?
How could I express my sorrow
and my tearful regret,
for all the hurt my selfish soul has caused,
for all the damage it has wrought?
Bile rises upwards into my throat
and deep remorse seeps out
from every pore;
from my bone’s very marrow;
from the soul of my innermost soul.
How will I clothe myself in front of them,
on the Day I stand,
naked and alone and afraid?
With what tissue of words will I seek to defend myself?
And what a flimsy tissue it will be!
How else can I make reparation,
except that I should tear out my beating heart,
in bloody atonement?
I don’t know;
truly, I don’t know!
Ya Rahman!  Save me, lest I drown in that dark river’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Here They Come Again…

Peace, one and all…

This little ditty was  written to express my gratitude for the spiritual warmth and aid that I’ve received in recent months from diverse sources.   I’d like to mention 2 in particular: Shaykh Abdul-Karim (and all the murids) of the Osmanli Dergah in New York (courtesy of Yursil at Mind, Body, Soul) and brother Irving Karchmar (over at Darvish). Both, in very different ways, have helped me immensely in my first faltering steps on the Path.  May God reward them all.

O Lord!  Accept this from me, an unworthy gift made by defiled hands.  Allah! All I have is You!  Heal me and help me and all those whom I love (and all those I’ve ever wronged)!

‘Here they come again,
those lovers of God.
With smiling eyes
and joyous hearts,
whose very laughter shakes the winter
from my frost-bound heart.
They sing and they dance,
they whirl and they turn,
till the very least of their sins falls away.
Though unaware,
they came in timely fashion to my prison cell,
where I lay trapped in Ego’s dark embrace,
weighed down by sin, and guilt, and shame.
Their remembrances whispered promises of release,
into layla’s sweet bosom:
‘Come, let us go down and rescue our brother:
for how will he ever learn to fly,
if we do not teach him how
to break free from his self-imposed bondage?’

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Semimars & Things…

Peace, one and all…

Still mulling over Ramadan…with God’s permission, I’ll be adding a post soon. 

The last few weeks have been intensely busy, with the arrival of hordes of new students.  Teaching has begun again, al hamdu lillah and so too have first year seminars.  Al hamdu lillah, this is my third year of teaching seminars and it’s now starting to click, at last!  As in previous years, I’ve got 3 groups.  Also as before, 2 groups are lively, interactive and engaged; the third groups is much less so. 

This year, I’ve found teaching Hindu traditions much easier.  The penny seems to  have dropped at last!  I’m teaching the Islamic traditions section of the course again, which is nice (and means a few extra quid, al hamdu lillah).  I don’t intend to make any changes, so that should make things easier, insha Allah.

My ‘Heresy in the Medieval Islamic World’ course starts in January.  Well, there goes the Xmas vacation!  Should be an interesting course, insha Allah, and it’s all building up to a summer extravaganza.  We’re planning on holding an intensive Islamic Studies summer course, insha Allah.  More news to follow.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Eid Mubarak…

Peace, one and all…

Eid Mubarak one and all…

Kullu `aam wa antum bi khayr

Bajram Sherif Mubarak Olsun.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Ramadan’s Definitely Over…

Peace, one and all…

After Isha prayers last night I went out to the local store with my Bosnian brother-in-law to buy some medicine for my son (who had a slight fever).  Whilst we were in the shop, two men tried to steal alcohol.  The store workers caught them before they got out and a fight ensued.  One of the thieves grabbed the bag of alcohol roughly from his ‘friend’, causing him no small hurt.  The other man was caught by the shop workers, who manhandled him into the store.  In all, this took a good 10 minutes of effort, until the police came.  As I was trying to take this all in, my brother-in-law turned to me and said, ‘Ramadan’s finished’!  At the time, it was a very succinct and rather amusing statement.

Ya Allah!  Ramadan has indeed finished.  Ya Rabb!  May we all reach the next Ramadan safely.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

Since I Stepped Over the Threshold…

Peace, one and all…

This little ditty was written using the last ‘ink’ of Ramadan.  Ahh…Ramadan, Ramadan!  Enjoy…

O Lord!  Accept the gifts of my heart, for my hands are empty and my praise is all I have.

‘Since I stepped over the threshold
all desire for strife has left me,
and my eyes have been filled
with the wondrous beauty of a strange new horizon.
Amidst the thorn-covered wasteground
I have found the path to a garden of roses,
beneath which rivers flow.
The heady scent of flowers in full bloom surrounds me
and I feel rapture’s sweet embrace circle my heart.
Since I crossed the threshold,
I only have eyes for You, Beloved!
and though the boundary be not far behind,
in truth, it lies now lost in another world’.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman

The Last Moments of Ramadan…

Peace, one and all…

Ya Allah!  Forgive me, my parents, my wife and children, my wider family and all those who struggle on towards You.

This is not really a poem, but rather a heartfelt du’a (though, thinking about it, that’s what all true poetry is).

‘My Lord!  You have blessed me in ways uncounted,
and uncountable;
for I have lived to see Ramadan once more.
My Lord!  I have struggled with my soul in this blessed month,
at Your command,
and amidst my successes and aye, my failures too,
I praise Your Blessed Name, 
from my finger’s tip to my heart’s innermost sanctuary.
O Lord!  Let all my journeys and all my restings
be bathed in Your Light.
Let Your mercy and forgiveness rain down upon me,
that I might drown in You.
O Lord!  Now that Ramadan slips away I ask one final du’a:
Guide Adam’s wayward family back to Your overflowing Love once more’.

Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman