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Saturday, April 3, 2010

In City of Distances During Times of Disillusionment



Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.
Leonardo da Vinci


Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.
John Quincy Adams




For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.






Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Sunday, March 28, 2010

The End of the Affair

And the curtain fell ....




The End.

Like this- Rumi




If one asks to see the face of ecstasy

Just lift your radiant smile to claim;








"Like this"



When they seek grace in the



Universe or the cadence of stars


Scale the façade, climb up


And dance on the rooftop


Proudly boast; "like this"



If they want to know what


The "spirit" is, or how to recognize


The Lords lucidity, lean in, closer


Skin tight, and whisper; "Like this"



When they quote from an arcane verse

To portray the dance; the pale halo

Teasing behind gossamer clouds


Like Salome and the veil, blossom


Soft to unravel your gown


Disrobe with slow a hand


Lace to lace, seam to seam, pose & shine


"Like this"



But if they dare question how Jesus


Raised the dead, never ever articulate


A miracle, just kiss me on the lips;


"Like this, like this"



When he asks what it means to


"Die for love"; just point to me and


Softly smile; Like he



If they ask of my height, pout


Graciously, meticulous to measure with


Your fingers, three folds above where my lips


Always rest on your forehead, and say;


"This tall"



At times the soul departs to leave the flesh


Empty


Only to return more grateful than ever


But if they don't believe this, gracefully step


Back inside my house, and bid all the


Nonbelievers a courteous farewell; "Like this"


When lovers moan, they recite our legacy;


"Like this"





I'm the sky where spirits reside


Stare into the deep blue of my eyes, and


Listen to the breeze whispers my secrets;


"Like this"





When he asks; what's there to do


Light a candle in his hand, and hum in his


Ears; "Burn; like this"



How did Joseph's scent reach
Jacob?


How?

How did Jacob's sight return?


How?


A little wind to cleanse the eyes


"Like this"



When Shams returns from Tabriz


He'll sneak up to the door, peer through


The crack, and patiently wait to surprise


Us like this













Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Whirling an evening ...





It was like any ordinary evening of later in March in Lahore, just beginning to steam up ..... the breeze of blooming spring laden with promises of fruits ..... the hour of dusk, of meeting of times ..... Up on that vast open terrace the eye caught the glimpse of what sprawled around as an expanse of DHA's phase I ..... the scent of incandescent amidst the lavish drapery of rose petals on the white linen on floor ...... the light of a setting sun in that just post-maghrib hour, tens of candles and a fresh brilliant crescent ...... all endowed the atmosphere like an affectionate lover; and the sound of ney that was generous to ears like a soothsayer's prayer .... 






A sense of profound ease seeped through my pores as I gathered with all others, dressed in white; absolute pure white. It was in regard to the Mevlevi tradition that all of us had gathered to celebrate. It was basically a workshop that was meant to let people ensure that they celebrate the beauty of life by opening themselves up to the divine mysteries of the ages as they turn themselves around - whirling away from the mundane. 

Ayeda proved to be a wonderful teacher who ensured that all those in attendance could benefit from that gathering that was primarily aimed at learning to use the body as a divine instrument. "If everything in the Universe - from the cells to the atoms to the planets - is in a constant state of whirling, why aren't we?" she prompted and insisted, "Learn to see your body as a divine instrument, with your heart at the core of its being. Watch your body become like a moth circling the flame (your heart) and a planet circling the sun (your heart) as the heart circles the Divine", as we gathered to learn the sacred dance of the Mevlevi Sufis of Konya


As soon as enough time had passed and all of us had settled down into the quietness of the moment, Ayeda got her ney out and passing from one to another, let us had the feel of what Rumi thought depicted man so well.
Ney is a flute-like instrument, made out of bamboo reed and hollow from the inside. The instrument is played after months of practice when the breath is finally able to bring music out of it as it is blown thrown. In Sufi tradition, the Ney is the body of man and the breath blown into it is the spirit (breath of God). This refers to the Quranic verse: Behold, thy Lord said to the angels, “I am about to create man, from sounding (dry) clay...” and “when I have fashioned him (man) and breathed into him My spirit fall ye down in obeisance unto him (the Quran, XV/28 and 29); and “for God has poured His love into our hearts by means of the Holy Spirit who is God’s gift to us” (the Bible, Romans 4/5). The first eighteen verses of Rumi's masnevi, which are like an entrance to his great villa where he welcomes his guests and gives them the keys of the rooms without which the guests might get lost and falter in the corridors of his grand villa –the Masnevi; and which undoubtedly form the summary of the six volumes of masnevi, talk of the ney!

Huddling close together in those flickering candle flames we read out the verse line by line from the notes spread in front of each of us.

Listen!

Listen to the ney
Listen to the one who is giving himself up
Listen to the one who has emptied himself
Listen to the one from whom the voice of Allah is heard

Turn, turn around the meaning of the Beloved
Do sema, turn, turn listening to what is being sung
Turn, understanding what is being sung
Turn, turn joining Allah
Who manifests Himself a new every moment

While turning become so pure so beautiful that you
start turning around yourself too

While turning know that the whole universe
even the electrons of an atom
from the tiniest to the greatest of the created turn
only to reveal this meaning

Sema is for the soul that cannot stand still
Do not sit with the idol - geet up at once go furthur
Do not sit lost in your own thoughts
Get up go to where the beloved is

With one foot I am grounded in Sharia
With my other foot I am one with all nations

I am free, free I am free because I am in love with Allah
I am in love with my Creator, Slave to no human, I am the servant of my love Allah
there is nothing to tie me down
I am free, free, free

They figured the value of my head, my robe and my turban
They were not worth more than a cent
Have you heard my name in this world?
I am Nothing, Nothing, Nothing

As long as I live, I am the servant of the Quran
I am the dust under the feet of the Prophet Muhammad
Whoever belongs to God, God belongs to him
Let yourself go, the ney will guide you to your goal

Demonstrate your love with your actions, your morals,
Be aware of the ways of servant people for the sake of Allah
Feel the pleasure of serving without expectations

Look at those with any faith with the eyes of your soul
From them nothing but a cry of Ya Hayy, or Ya Rabb can be heard

Friend I am You and You are me
Don't lose yourself
Don't forget who you are
The one following you like a shadow is me
My friend don't pierce your soul with your own dagger

Since you miss the sea let go of being a drop
Since you are me and I am you
what is this talk of me and you?

After death comes don't look in the ground for our grave
Our grave is in the heart of the believers





The schedule was divided into a couple of slots and after the verses, breathing practice was the first; a focused, coherent, conscious breath that channeled the flow of thought. One way for each of the four elements of nature: Earth, Air, Water, Fire, characterized by inhalation and exhalation taking place through nose and mouth in different permutations. While the inward breath was to be accompanied by the realization of richness of Divine bounties and gratitude, the outward breath was to take along with all that contaminated within.
At the onset it was more like a ritual to me, but when it set off, I experienced what could be related, albeit even remotely, to what can be termed as cleansing of the soul. It is an undeniable fact, that proper, focused breathing puts our organism in harmony with its own self, and thence the Self.

The evening was not about religion as much as was about catching up with the soul and with being in harmony with self. But those who interpret spirit and soul in light of religion ended up benefiting more, as per my understanding. 

The meditation followed the conscious breathing, and it was here that the evening began to blossom into a mood of its own. 
With eyes closed, breathing consciously, trying to let myself loose from every shred of thought that clung to my mind, I discovered a strangely strong sensation of heightened awareness of my surroundings ....... of sound of water dripping from someone's lawn hose close by and impact of its wetness, of wafts of incandescent through air currents, of that slight stir of movement by someone here or there, of the sound of my own heart beating in my chest, of the passage of breath through my lungs, of the way my fingers were curled with my hands resting on my knees ...... it was strange, and in a quite inexplicable way, quite liberating. Imagine a bolt of sensations hitting you like an avalanche, when all you have to do is to just lean back and cherish it. No fighting, no figuring the reasons, no calculations, no reactions, just plain simple contemplation ... an indiscriminate allowance for everything to sink down into your pit less being! Do you see the freedom it brought? 

We raised our hands in a joint prayer heavenwards and the amen concluded with hands gathering and bringing down blessings from the heavens. Calmness being induced step by step, we reached the milestone of sitting sema: inner calm paving way for the expression of ecstasy. The sitting Sema had to follow the clockwise rotational movement, to keep the body in harmony and maintain the balance with the anticlockwise rotation of the standing sema (whirling) later. Following the pattern of LA ILLA HA ILLALLALLAH, that captured the essence of driving all the 'ILLALLALLAH' out of the heart, with eyes closed it was our heads that took the lead in breaking away from the movements of the norm. A few moments later, a slow, deliberate beat of arabic daff began to accompany that congregational rise and fall of our harp: LA ILLA HA ILLALLALLAH.

The sitting sema culminated in standing sema, which was indeed the highlight of the day. 
Surrendering one's self in pure ecstatic joy of love of the One by forming a physical 'alif' and then proceeding on to creating a symphony of physical and spiritual harmony, with one foot planted on earth providing an axis into reality and with other whirling like a moth around The Real, was such a surreal experience that it later made me wonder if it was actually real!

We were quite a few in numbers, of both genders, and yet while whirling onto our same Real axes with eyes closed each one of us had a different reality. A few cried out of joy, and I felt an overpowering sense of elation, of liberty. A sweeping sense of profound peace, of gentle adoration for life as it is, of gratitude for being alive and free, free to love my Love, is what I had with me when I picked up my bag and made way to stairs leading down. 

Whirling that evening on Saba's terrace was falling in love with life and Lord, and nothing in life can be comparable to the joy of returning to your first Love!







Friday, March 19, 2010

I Am And I Am Not

RumiI’m drenched
in the flood 
which has yet to come 

I’m tied up 
in the prison
which has yet to exist

Not having played
the game of chess
I’m already the checkmate

Not having tasted
a single cup of your wine
I’m already drunk

Not having entered
the battlefield
I’m already wounded and slain

I no longer
know the difference
between image and reality

Like the shadow
I am
And
I am not


Rumi

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Realm of ecstasy



Usually I am not a lot into music, unless it just clings to me; I get immersed into the chords and beats, and more importantly, the lyrics. In such times, music becomes an antidote for every 'vitriol' in life.

Saaz aur awaz, taal mail, ilfaaz aur baazgasht, everything joins hand and intricately weaves around a world, so magical, so intense, that I lose myself like a beloved in her lover's arms...
The entire world with all its hustle bustle and useless noise is shunned to enter that realm of ecstasy and profound calm that seeps in like water under the roots of bougainvillea.

In such times, music does become what they call, a solace for soul, or probably soul itself. 

Here I am sharing with you, one of the MOST precious gem of my magical world, hope you shall enjoy it too.


Lyrics:
Hairat mara ze har do jahan be niaz kard
Een khab kaare daulat e bedaar meekunad
(Rumi)

Bewilderment has absolved me of both the worlds
This is the consequence of awakening from my dreams


Khuli jab ki chashm e dil e hazeen,
to vo nam raha na teri rahi
Hui hairat aisi kuch aankh par ki asar ki be asari rahi
Pari goshe jaan mein ajab nida ki jigar na bejigari rahi
Khabare tahhayyur e ishq sun na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na to tu raha na to main raha jo rahi bekhabari rahi...
(Khamsa by Nazeer Akbarabadi for Siraj Aurangabadi)

The eyes of an anguished heart open...
No longer moist.. Bereft of tears
The perplexed vision
Remained unmoved.. Devoid of response
The soul heard.. An unusual sound
That took the pluck of life away
As wondrous love revealed itself
The fairy vanished..The ecstasy lost
Nor you remained.. Nor I was found
mere oblivion was all there was...


Mujhe bekhudi ye tune bhali chashni chakhayi
Kisi aarzoo ki dil mein nahi ab rahi samayi

O surrender in love,
You have given me a taste that pales all worldliness
No desire remains
In the heart filled with submission


Na hazar hai na khatar hai, na raja hai ne dua hai
Na khayaal e bandagi hai na tamana e khudai

Neither distance nor fear...
neither hope nor prayer
neither thoughts of subjugation
nor desire of godliness


Na muqqam e guftagu hai na mahhall e justaju hai
Na wahan havaas pahunche na khirad ko hai rasai

No place for exchange of words...
no occasion for further quest
Where neither consciousness reaches
nor thoughts transcend its realm


Na makin hai ne makan hai na zameen hai ne zaman hai
Dil e be nava ne mere jahan chhavni hai chayi

No one resides..Neither habitation exist...
Is where this wandering heart has come to camp


Na visaal hai na hijraan na suroor hai na gham hai
Jise kahiye khwab e ghaflat so woh neend mujh ko aayi

Where there is no union... No separation
no sorrow... no joy
What is said to be an endless oblivion
I enter such a slumber



Hazrat Shah Niaz


Lyrics, source & translation:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g71tK0UcQY8&feature=player_embedded











Image Courtesy: Generationbass.com

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Hard words. But true.

The young Napoleon was trembling like a reed in the wind during the ferocious bombardments at Toulon. A soldier, seeing him that way, said to his fellow soldiers, "Look at him, he's scared to death."
"Yes, I am," replied Napoleon. "But I go on fighting. If you felt half the fear I feel, you would have fled a long time ago.
"The master says: "Fear is not a sign of cowardice. It is fear that allows us be brave and dignified in the face of life's situations. Someone who experiences fear -- and despite the fear goes on, without allowing it to intimidate him -- is giving proof of valiance. But someone who tackles difficult situations without taking the danger into account, is proving only his irresponsibility."

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

People say, "Well, it seems that freedom for man consists of choosing his own brand of slavery. I work eight hours a day, and if I get a promotion, I'll have to work twelve.  I got married, and now I have no time to myself. I looked for God, and now I have to attend cult meetings, masses and other religious ceremonies. Everything that's important in life -- love, work, faith -- winds up becoming a burden that's too heavy to bear.
"The master says: "Only love allows us to escape. Only love turns slavery into freedom."If we cannot love, it is better to stop now." 
Jesus said: 'Better to be blind in one eye than for the entire body to perish in darkness.' 
"Hard words. But true."


- Maktub

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Dard itna tha uss raat

and only if I was sure that all this wet landscape underneath the lashes could lead me to the horizon.......
only if I could ease the stabbing pain that makes me want to throw this throbbing thing out of my chest
only if I could see anything beyond this moist blur


only if I could
only
only
only


only if





Saturday, March 6, 2010

lonesome

Its silent. Too silent. Its quiet, too quiet. But I cant help listening to this. Can you too listen to this?


Sunday, February 28, 2010

Raat phir yun.....

And yet again, the night seemed like a story out of the Arabian Nights. One that descended onto the sky just to stay there forever; like a lover's sigh, like a gypsy's curse.
He thought and tried to concentrate on how life would be the next morning, under the new sun. But the blackness of the bleak night invaded his vision every time his thought caressed and wanted to kiss the radiant face of a sunny morning .......

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Width of Belief...


Image by Michal Osmenda via Flickr


The length of yearning
Is two oceans and a continent wide.
I measure its dewy breadth
In hothouse nights,
Stained with salt and tears.
The height of loneliness
Is a round trip to heaven and back
Leaving me breathless
And hollow, sounding only of echo -
Answering myself.
The duration of pain is the time it takes
No more and no less,
Each grief tattoo fading at its own pace
From purple to yellow to pink
From hurt to health, eventually.
The size of love is infinite,
Of course, because of its miracle.
The more you give away
The more you have.
In my greed I offer you all I have.



Sunday, February 14, 2010

Carve me out into mould of yours O love!

Wrong lane. Again!

At the end of the day, what is it that everything amounts to?

I am learning to recognize the shape of  Z E R O all too well. Also, quite to my disappointment I am also beginning to understand that all zeros always sum up to give another zero. I had thought this realization would take a while in approaching, but no, it seems that I am learning fast. Excuse me, can we unlearn something? Darn! again in the wrong lane!

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Fear: a Destructive Illusion

The illusion of fear ever springs up within
The minds of men it is so important in those moments
To realize its formlessness through the brightness of our hearts


No dark shadows can reside for fear is an illusion planted as a test
By the ego in our hearts and souls to keep us in the dark
Controlling us by default ever does it lead us through


Its wild and wilful ways on waves of self destruction
Taking all within its path corrading as it courses
Testing our true grit until the moment when the soul cries out enough


In its anguish and its pain and surrenders all to Divine Love
Deep within our soul aligning us to essence our being transformed
From this source we emanate a glow as spirit illuminates us with its brilliance


Shining as the stars brightening all before us as it arises to the heavens
A marker to all others to walk the celestial highways
And brings all succour to life through its divine transformative powers


We grow in a deeply expansive way empathising with all others
As we sense their oneness within honouring all life in this process
Our lives irrevocably changed we live as bright links in the chain


Beaming through the firmament playing a full and indispensable part
For we were ever forged through pain and suffering
Bloodied yet unbowed and through these rites of passage


On this carousel of life we are lifted in the ups and downs
By Gods eternal hand in the company of angels and the hallelujah band




Alasdair Urquhart








Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Godless idolater ...

Not everyone of us is lucky to choose one's status in life! While some are born with the mindset of a god, there are others born stamped as worshipers. All their lives, they spend looking out for their deity; a lord of their world, their little universe. Someone whom they could love with all their passion like a worshiping monk in the Himalayas; someone whom they could place on an alter and present with a sacrifice of their own self, a self lost in that Self. 
But the search of each devotee is not promised to bear fruit. Upon not succeeding in finding their god, they begin to carve out one for themselves. For some, the idol takes the form of an endearing human; for others, the thought of a life lost in loving the wrong person.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Epic of Sadness


Your love taught me to grieve
and I have been in need, for centuries
a woman to make me grieve
for a woman, to cry upon her arms
like a sparrow
for a woman to gather my pieces
like shards of broken crystal

Your love has taught me, my lady, the worst habits
it has taught me to read my coffee cups
thousands of times a night
to experiment with alchemy,
to visit fortune tellers

It has taught me to leave my house
to comb the sidewalks
and search your face in raindrops
and in car lights
and to peruse your clothes
in the clothes of unknowns
and to search for  your image
even…..even…..
even in the posters of advertisements
your love has taught me
to wander around, for hours
searching for a gypsies hair
that all gypsies women will envy
searching for a face, for a voice
which is all the faces and all the voices…

Your love entered me…my lady
into the cities of sadness
and I before you, never entered
the cities of sadness
I did not know…
that tears are the person
that a person without sadness
is only a shadow of a person…

Your love taught me
to behave like a boy
to draw your face with chalk
upon the wall
upon the sails of fishermen's boats
on the Church bells, on the crucifixes,
your love taught me, how love,
changes the map of time…
Your love taught me, that when I love
the earth stops revolving,
Your love taught me things
that were never accounted for
So I read children's fairytales
I entered the castles of Jennies
and I dreamt that she would marry me
the Sultan's daughter
those eyes..
clearer than the water of a lagoon
those lips…
more desirable than the flower of pomegranates
and I dreamt that I would kidnap her like a knight                                                      
and I dreamt that I would give
her necklaces of pearl and coral
Your love taught me, my lady,
what is insanity
it taught me…how life may pass
without the Sultan's daughter arriving

Your love taught me
How to love you in all things
in a bare winter tree,
in dry yellow leaves
in the rain, in a tempest,
in the smallest cafe, we drank in,
in the evenings…our black coffee

Your love taught me…to seek refuge
to seek refuge in hotels without names
in churches without names…
in cafes without names…

Your love taught me…how the night
swells the sadness of strangers
It taught me…how to see Beirut
as a  woman…a tyrant of temptation
as a woman, wearing every evening
the most beautiful clothing she possesses
and sprinkling upon her breasts perfume
for the fisherman, and the princes
Your love taught me  how to cry without crying
It taught me how sadness sleeps
Like a boy with his feet cut off
in the streets of the Rouche and the Hamra

Your love taught me to grieve
and I have been needing, for centuries
a woman to make me grieve
for a woman, to cry upon her arms
like a sparrow
for a woman to gather my pieces
like shards of broken crystal


Nizar Qabbani, translated by Diaa Hadid

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

A Mixed-Breed Apple

What colour am I? How does this go with the description? :s
Could someone please explain this for me?

A MIXED BREED APPLE

A little mixed-breed apple,
half red, half yellow,
tells this story.

A lover and beloved get separated
Their being apart was one thing,
but they have opposite responses.

The lover feels pain and grows pale.
The beloved flushes and feels proud.

I am a thorn next to my master's rose.
We seem to be two, but we are not.

[RUMI BRIDGE TO THE SOUL]

Monday, January 11, 2010

Rumi replenishes ...






Now I am sober and there's only the hangover and the memory of love. (Rumi)


Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. Cleverness is mere opinion, bewilderment is intuition. (Rumi)


When you do things from your soul you feel a river moving in you, a joy. (Rumi)

Silence is an ocean. Speech is a river. When the ocean is searching for you, don't walk into the language-river. Listen to the ocean, and bring your talky business to an end. (Rumi)

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet. (Rumi)

The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along. (Rumi)

-The Gift of Water

Every object and being in the universe is a jar overflowing with wisdom and beauty, a drop of the Tigris that cannot be contained by any skin. Every jarful spills and makes the earth more shining, as though covered in satin. (Rumi)


What is the body? That shadow of a shadow of your love, that somehow contains the entire universe. (Rumi)

Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still. (Rumi)

When I am with you, we stay up all night. When you're not here, I can't go to sleep. Praise God for those two insomnias! And the difference between them. (Rumi)

You are the deep innerness of all things, the last word that can be spoken. To each of us you reveal yourselves differently: to the ship as coastline, to the shore as ship. (Rumi)

This discipline and rough treatment are a furnace to extract the silver from the dross. This testing purifies the gold by boiling the scum away. (Rumi)


My comment:
Now I am sober and there's only the hangover and the memory of love.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Your Character and You



Man looks in the abyss, there’s nothing staring back at him. At that moment, man finds his character. And that is what keeps him out of the abyss.u201D; — Hal Holbrook, Wall Street

What is the abyss but a dark hole in existence in which nothing is and nothing escapes. This would be an equivalent to a black hole yet this black hole exists in our minds. A more real version of the abyss is something physical called a mirror. Many times someone looks into a mirror and does not recognize what they see or like the image they see. We often look into the abyss when we may be lost in a situation or even in ourselves.


We are forced to become someone. We are forced to do something about it. We are forced to develop character. Character is what we are defined by and who we appear to be in the eyes of others and of ourselves.


All too often we attempt to be someone else in order to make other happy with the character they perceive to be you. This will lead you down a path to utter and total confusion and unhappiness. There is a voice in your head. Some rarely listen to it and others have never even heard it. This voice speaks to you each day, helping you along your way and determining the right decisions which ultimately make up the idea of who you are in the eyes of others and of yourself. This voice is always correct as opposed to you wanting to do everything on your own.


Listen to this voice, learn from this voice, and you will always stay out of the abyss.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Happy New Year All


The transition of 31st December to 1st January is merely a change of the calender, the entire novelty of a New Year being in its metaphorical change. Lets pray that the Change is for the better, and lets aim to ensure that betterment in our own lives! A very Happy New Year to all of you! :)