‘The Sufi’s book is not of ink and letters; it is nothing but a heart white as snow’ (Mevlana Rumi, Mathnawi II.159)
Peace, one and all…
It’s friday (and because it’s reading week here, I’m less busy than I normally am). So, here are some friday afternoon qawwals, as well as a bonus rendition of a favourite Turkish ilahi of mine (Ey Asik)
Enjoy and may God make them beneficial.
Badar Miandad: Jeewain Jeewain Lal
Badar Miandad – Kadde Na Dubde Ne
Badar Miandad Qawwali – Kadi Sochna Vi Na
Abdurrahman önül-Ey aşık-ı dildade
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
On my way home recently, my attention was drawn to a small weir, just north of Cardiff. The water looked so calm and yet so energised as it slid over the artificial waterfall. The thought that struck me as I observed this scene felt important:
How will I pass over death’s waterfall when my own time comes? Will I face it with calm bravery, or will I tumble over the edge of life in anxious worry?
Beloved, let me face all my comings and going with bravery. Let me cross the waterfall of death with hope.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
Differences are what makes us so interesting. Differences are what make us all so unique. Differences are we are all here – that we might learn to see from, through and beyond our own limitations. If the human heart is in truth a mirror, then we are all our own looking glasses – cast in a unique shape and form, and thus capable of reflecting light from a slightly different perspective.
In truth, we are like diamonds sparkling in the moonlight. We are like jewels bathing in the calm sunlight of God’s love.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
‘Enter the gate with humility and We shall forgive you’ (2:58)
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
Teachers arrive at our door by day and by night and so we learn by light and by darkness it seems. So it is that during the last few months (since I attended the Threshold Society Retreat in August), I have been experiencing both presence and absence, and I have sought to learn from them both. The following thoughts came to me during prayers this evening and are ultimately inspired by the teaching of Shaykh Kabir Helminski (Allah preserve him).
As I was sitting between the two prostrations (sajdas) during salat al-maghrib this evening I was struck by a sudden reflection. The prayer (namaz, salat) has two prostrations because they relate to the outward and inward (or zahiri and batini) aspects of spiritual growth. The first sajda (coming, as it does, shortly after the ruku’ or position of service) is our physical, exterior prostration: that is, it is the act of laying our outward form on the floor before God. It symbolises the idea that our bodies, our lives, even our souls come to us from God – we should therefore show gratitude.
The second sajda relates to our inward souls. That is, once we have learned to submit our outward forms, we must then learn to submit the soul within, we must learn to prostrate to God in the silences of our soul. Moreover, the second sajda is an act of expiation for the mistakes of the first. Or, to put it another way, it as an act of surrender, in which we let go of all our false assumptions and we actively seek God’s forgiveness for errors of mind and heart. Or again, we submit our mistaken notion that religion (here symbolised as sajda) is merely an outward form, a physical act.
May the Beloved purify our outward and inward selves with the light of His grace. May we all be healed, body, mind and soul.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
I have loved trees ever since I was a small child, probably before I was even clearly aware of what they are. Trees stand rooted in the earth, taking nourishment from sun and rain in quiet dignity, even as they reach towards the heavens.
Some trees bear fruit, some proffer nuts and betties and some throw wide their brances, offering shade to all who pass by. Trees, like people, are individuals – each has its own shape and way of growth. Some are tall and clean-limbed, others are short and stout and powerful.
Given my own private love affair with trees, I can well understand the significance assigned to them in numerous mythological/religious systems. The Quran, for example, speaks of the Lote Tree at the outermost edge of human experience, whilst the Bible speaks of the primordial Tree of Life. For the ancient Norse, this world was built upon a sacred tree, known as Yggdrasil. The roots of Yggdrasil were said to lie in the bowels of the netherworld, whilst its branches were said to reach forth into the realm of the gods (known as Asgard). The pagan Saxons (cousins of the Norse) were said to worship an enormous and ancient tree which they believed to be Yggdrasil. During Charlemagne’s pacification of the region, this tree became a centre of the Saxon rebellion (until it was eventually destroyed by Charlemagne).
At any rate, I recently found myself looking at trees and the image of Yggdrasil came forcefully to my mind’s eye. A tree’s roots lie in the earth (much as a human’s roots lie in the earth of our animalistic selves), whilst its brances reach forth towards heaven, like so many fingers of longing (much as we struggle towards the heights within and beyond ourselves). I was overcome by a profound sense of connection, of communion. I was also struck by the need to follow the example of trees. That is, I wish to use the God-given wind and sun and rain to reach forth into the wide heavens of the heart.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
Words form limitations, as much as they suggest possibilities. Words close doors, as much as they open them. Words mark out terrain, as much as they open it up for exploration. But this need not be a cause for sorrow, nor need it be a source of regret.
Forming words is a fundamental part of being human it seems. Indeed, it is the very essence of what it means to be human. Each of us contains a heart/mind (that is, a centre of emotion/cognition). Each of us possesses a tongue. Each of us speak, therefore, from a certain place, time and (for want of a better word) temperament. Each of us can see things differently and so we speak about them differently. Moreover, the very fact of language means that we load meanings into the words we use in all sorts of ways.
No two meanings are exactly the same, it seems. No two people infuse a word with exactly the same meanings. This is not, of course, to deny the fact that words must carry shared meanings in order for them to be intelligible. Rather, it is to say that the nuances we invest in our words lead us to all sorts of interesting differences.
Elsewhere, I have explored this broad idea with regards to poetry. To reprise that post, the very humanity of our words gives us ever more creative ways to ‘fail’, ever more beautiful ways in which we fail to grasp reality. The point being, I think, that there is nothing to fear in the limited nature of language. In some ways, being afraid of words is rather like worrying about the sun shining: why worry about the innate nature of something?
The Quranic story of Adam illustrates our ability to use words, to define, to name, is fundamental to who we are as a species. The Quran says that God taught Adam the names of all things. It thus suggests that it is this very ability which gives us our great (and often untapped) potential. This is perhaps the symbolic meaning behind the Quranic story of the angels prostrating themselves before Adam at God’s command. The fact that we can explore ideas in so many ways and from so many vantage points, demonstrates that problems can be approached differently. That is, problems can be overcome.
It also shows that conversation (or, the sharing of words if you will) can lead us towards creativity, towards the solving of our problems, towards wisdom. In other words, as we slowly come to understand that the truth exists beyond and independent of our ability to describe it, we begin to see that, in some sense, we all have a part to play – we all have a place in the grand conversation of life. Or, more fundamentally, words are thus a means of approaching silence.
This is why I find conversation (or dialogue or sohbet) so very rewarding. It is also why I have benefitted so very much from this blog. That is, through this blog I have been able to share my words with others. More importantly, I have been given the rare gift of having the words of others touch me in the very core of my soul.
And my last prayer is in praise of God, Sustainer of All Being.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
Honour
I honour the sacred within you,
as I honour the sacredness
of the Source of All.
I honour the marvel of you,
of someone other,
of another living soul.
I honour the fire in your eyes,
as I honour the light
upon your brow.
It is an honour to give honour
and a joy to speak of joy:
here and now and evermore.
(Abdur Rahman, 26th February 2008)
Peace, one and all…
If this work of me is to come to fruition, I must lay all my desires as a sacrifice at love’s flower-laden altar. I must offer up all that is unworthy, all that is unbecoming, all that causes sorrow. But, and this is important, it must be done as an act of love, and not as an act of psychic suicide. That is, love must be the intention, the meaning and the method of my sacrifice.
To offer up my human imperfections in a grudging and half-hearted fashion will bring naught but sorrow and regret. In the long run, only willing sacrifices last, because only willing sacrifices are true. Or, to put it another way, only love lasts forever.
This is because love is a joy, a light and a source of warmth. Though hatred may glow with a fierce and angry light, it brings no warmth – for the heart of hatred is as cold as ice, and as barren as the wilderness. What kind of gift would a cold and icy heart be? In truth, I would be ashamed to offer up a gift so unworthy.
So, let this work of transformation be a labour of love. Let this sacrifice of me be a willing one. And, most of all, let all my deeds arise in love.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
As a Mother Loves…
As a mother loves
the fair faces of her children,
even so we are loved.
As a father strives
to maintain the sanctity of home and hearth,
even so does the Beloved strive for us.
As a friend stands firm
upon a day of distress,
even so the Friend of all rushes to our aid.
As a lover whispers
all those small words of love and longing,
even so the Beloved speaks into the depths of our souls.
(Abdur Rahman, 26th Febraury 2008)
Image credit: pbase.com
Peace, one and all…
I realised something recently. Religious diversity is a blessing.
I welcome the awe-inspiring variety of human religious experience. I welcome all of the manifold visions of the sacred, all the diverse images of what is holy. Ever since I began struggling to open my eyes, I have seen wonders of faith and meaning, wheresoever I have looked.
I realise that the sacred is everywhere and in all things.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
Badar Miandad: Sakhi Lal Qalandar Jhoole Lal
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan: Ali Dha Malang
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
No Other
No other will carry my burden for me
and so I must
shoulder its weight myself.
No other tongue but my own
shall confess its separation,
so let me confess it here and now.
No other soul can live this life for me,
and so I must go forth
and live it in my own way.
And, at the end of all things,
no other shall judge me
but love itself.
(Abdur Rahman, 20th February 2008)
Peace, one and all…
First things first. I have returned from a short two-week blogging absence, where I’ve been pondering a number of inner issues. Insha Allah, I plan to offer a few thoughts on them soon.
At any rate, I have returned to several tags for the current book meme doing the rounds. And, given that I have been tagged by several worthy brothers and sisters, how could I refuse?
Here are the rules…
The nearest book to me, at present, is Colin Turner’s Islam Without Allah? The Rise of Religious Externalism in Safavid Iran. I’ve been using this book in my own teaching recently (we have been exploring Safavid Iran in my Shi`a Islam class). I have to say that this whole period is deeply fascinating, but before I go off into flights of historical fantasy, here are the required sentences from page 123:
‘For, according to the Sufis and other internalists, direct communion with God has always been a possibility, whereas for the Twelver Shi`ites, one must channel one’s belief through the Imam or, in his absence, through his representative. Although Sufism also had its guides – the ‘poles’ or aqtab – these were many: they were ordinary men singled out by God as a result of their spiritual progression and not because of their lineage’
I duly tag the following internet worthies: Julaybib, Baekho, Shree, Seeker’s Path, Krishna.
Let the fun begin!
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
We all need a time of reflection every now and then, and I certainly feel the need for one. As such, I’m going to be taking a short vacation from blogging for a while. Insha Allah, I will return in a couple of weeks time. Life is very busy for me at present, and there are a number of important matters for me to attend to.
Please remember me and my family in your du’as.
May God bless everyone who passes by.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
I am searching for a life where divisions end and where intent, thought and deed are one. I am searching for a land where words unite, in joy at life’s overflowing diversity. I am searching for a realm where words bring healing instead of bitterness, closeness instead of separation and confusion. I am searching for a realm where hearts speak their truth openly, naked and unafraid, where ‘religion’, ‘life’, ‘love’ and ‘hope’ are as one thing indivisible.
In times gone by, I sought this land in the world external – in maps and books and idealised visions. Now I realise that the realm I spent so long searching for actually lives within me (as it does within each of us). That land of love and grace, that kingdom of the heart, awaits me in all the quiet spaces of my soul. I have but to stretch forth my hand to shape its waiting terrain.
So it is that the land beyond fear already exists – in this world, at this moment. Indeed, it lives within each of us. We have but to will it so and God will bring it forth.
So praise be to Allah for the blessing of life and love. Praise be to Allah for the gift of travelling and the gift of returning home.
Ma’as salama,
Abdur Rahman
Peace, one and all…
With Each Rising of the Sun
Let the heart speak its truth
with each rising of the sun,
and at each
coming of the night.
Let our tongues confess their humanity
at each joyous moment
when hands stretch forth
in greeting.
Let every eye behold its loved one,
and let every mouth sigh
in joy and wonder
at this strange unfolding life.
(Abdur Rahman, 7th February 2008)
Peace, one and all…
And Let All Three
Let this hearing be as vision
and this vision
be as living presence,
and may all three bear me swiftly to Your door.
When ear and eye and soul meet in wholeness,
wonders pour forth from the heart,
as water pours forth all unexpectedly
from the rugged heart of mountains.
When the pain of separation becomes as sweet
as all the joys of meeting,
then love becomes a strong chariot
and life a swift return to You.
(Abdur Rahman, 7th February 2008)
