To Be In, Not Of, The World

Aa ja, aa ja ab tou khalwat ho gai!

Lazzat-e Safar

لیکن مجھے ہمیشہ اپنے اندر ایک خلا کا احساس ہوا اور باہر سناٹا ۔
اندر کی کائنات اتر کر خلا میں پہنچنے کی جستجو کرتا تھا ۔
لیکن اس کے لیے جس مراقبے اور مکاشفے کی ضرورت ہے ، اس کی ہمت نہ تھی ۔
میرا حال یہ ہے کہ درویشی کا ظرف نہ تھا ، اور دنیا داری کا سلیقہ نہپیں ۔
سو ساری زندگی رسے پر ڈولتے گذر گئی ۔
لیکن نا معلوم کو جاننے کا ایسا چسکا ہے کہ میں کبھی ڈرتے ڈرتے آہستہ آہستہ اور کبھی تیز تیز بے خوف اندر کی غار میں چھلانگ لگا لیتا ہوں ۔
کبھی کچھ ہاتھ آتا ہے کبھی خالی ہاتھ ہی لوٹنا پڑتا ہے ۔
لیکن سفر کی اپنی ایک لذت تو ہے ہی ۔ کبھی کبھی چھپ چھپ کر سب سے چوری چوری نماز پڑھنے اور اس کے نام کا چپکے چپکے ، اندر ہی اندر ورد کرنے کا بھی ایک مزہ ہے ۔ 
اس عشق کی طرح جسے چھپانے کا لطف ہوتا ہے ۔

عشق کی تشہیر بھی ایک مزہ رکھتی ہے ۔ 
اور اس کا اخفاء بھی اپنی ہی ایک لذت رکھتا ہے ۔

تمنا بے تاب "رشید امجد"

دامِ یقین

یہ نظم اتنے بہت سے حوالوں کے ساتھ

زندگی میں گندھی ہے

کہ اب یقین ہے کہ

گر اپنی کتھا کہتے

تو منظوم اختصار

یہی ہوتا

...

:)

مرے ہمدم، مرے دوست

گر مجھے اس کا یقیں ہو مرے ہمدم، مرے دوست
گر مجھے اس کا یقیں ہو کہ ترے دل کی تھکن
تیری آنکھوں کی اداسی، ترے سینے کی جلن
میری دلجوئی، مرے پیار سے مت جائے گی
گرمرا حرفِ تسلی وہ دوا ہو جس سے
جی اٹھے پھر ترا اُجڑا ہوا بے نور دماغ
تیری پیشانی سے دھل جائیں یہ تذلیل کے داغ
تیری بیمار جوانی کو شفا ہو جائے

گر مجھے اس کا یقیں ہو مرے ہمدم، مرے دوست

روز و شب، شام و سحر میں تجھےبہلاتا رہوں
میں تجھے گیت سناتا رہوں ہلکے، شیریں،
آبشاروں کے، بہاروں کے ، چمن زاروں کے گیت
آمدِ صبح کے، مہتاب کے، سیاروں کے گیت
تجھ سے میں حسن و محبت کی حکایات کہوں
کیسے مغرور حسیناؤں کے برفاب سے جسم

گرم ہاتھوں کی حرارت سے پگھل جاتے ہیں
کیسے اک چہرے کے ٹھہرے ہوئے مانوس نقوش
دیکھتے دیکھتے یک لخت بدل جاتے ہیں
کس طرح عارضِ محبوب کا شفاف بلور
یک بیک بادہء احمر سے دہک جاتا ہے
کیسے گلچیں کے لیے جھکتی ہے خود شاخِ گلاب
کس طرح رات کا ایوان مہک جاتا ہے
یونہی گاتا رہوں، گاتا رہوں تیری خاطر
گیت بنتا رہوں، بیٹھا رہوں تیری خاطر
یہ مرے گیت ترے دکھ کا مداوا ہی نہیں
نغمہ جراح نہیں، مونس و غم خوار سہی
گیت نشتر تو نہیں، مرہمِ آزار سہی
تیرے آزار کا چارہ نہیں، نشتر کے سوا
اور یہ سفاک مسیحا مرے قبضے میں نہیں
اس جہاں کے کسی ذی روح کے قبضے میں نہیں

ہاں مگر تیرے سوا، تیرے سوا، تیرے سوا

Chaos Gives Birth To Dancing Stars

Emotional calm has its own price. Sometimes its swaying soul going silent.
A wonderful read that lucidly explains the quiet on this blog place for quite a few moons now. :)

Why Emotional Excess is Essential to Writing and Creativity

“Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.”

The third volume of Anaïs Nin’s diaries has been on heavy rotation in recent weeks, yielding Nin’s thoughtful and timeless meditations on life,mass movements, Paris vs. New York, what makes a great city, and the joy of handcraft.

The subsequent installment, The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-1947 (public library) is an equally rich treasure trove of wisdom on everything from life to love to the art of writing. In fact, Nin’s gift shines most powerfully when she addresses all of these subjects and more in just a few ripe sentences. Such is the case with the following exquisite letter of advice she sent to a seventeen-year-old aspiring author by the name of Leonard W., whom she had taken under her wing as creative mentor. 

I like to live always at the beginnings of life, not at their end. We all lose some of our faith under the oppression of mad leaders, insane history, pathologic cruelties of daily life. I am by nature always beginning and believing and so I find your company more fruitful than that of, say, Edmund Wilson, who asserts his opinions, beliefs, and knowledge as the ultimate verity. Older people fall into rigid patterns. Curiosity, risk, exploration are forgotten by them. You have not yet discovered that you have a lot to give, and that the more you give the more riches you will find in yourself. It amazed me that you felt that each time you write a story you gave away one of your dreams and you felt the poorer for it. But then you have not thought that this dream is planted in others, others begin to live it too, it is shared, it is the beginning of friendship and love.

[…]

You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings. It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing. Permit yourself to flow and overflow, allow for the rise in temperature, all the expansions and intensifications. Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them. If it seems to you that I move in a world of certitudes, you, par contre, must benefit from the great privilege of youth, which is that you move in a world of mysteries. But both must be ruled by faith.

Originally from: http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2012/09/03/anais-nin-on-emotion-and-writing/

PS:
“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”
- Friedrich Nietzsche

The Decree

"مرداب به رود گفت: "چه کردی که زلالی؟

(The pond asked the river:" What did you do to become so clear?")

"!رود جواب داد: "گذشتم 

("I moved on!" replied the river.)

Resourced via web.

For The Malik I Adore!

Lately I've come to know of various people and have made friends with quite a few of them. 

But there have been only a few, really, really special ones. Special to the extent that a mere thought of them makes one smile and that smile touches the very edges of heart like the glow of soft candle light.

Amina, you're one such person.

You define the idea of beauty; of strength, for me. 

If there's one wish Lord would let me have today, I'd ask for a life for you that spreads under your feet savoring the flavour of being conquered by a queen.

May you blossom, love. 

May you conquer! 

May you triumph! 

May life never cease to be an unending adventure for you - for that is the only way it deserves to come your way!

May you surmount each adventure like only you can do!

I wish you love, love.

I wish you greatness.

I wish you all, that your darling self is made to achieve! 

A very happy birthday to you! 

May you have many, many, MANY more! Amen.

I dedicate 'Phenomenal Woman' from Maya Angelou's And Still I Rise to you! 

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing of my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can't see.

I say

It's in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

The palm of my hand,

The need of my care,

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

That's you!

Culmination

بر من درِ وصل بسته می‌دارد دوست

دل را به عنا* شکسته می‌خواهد دوست

زین پس من و دل شکستگی بر در او

چون دوست، دل شکسته می‌دارد دوست

Beloved kept the door closed on my endless pleas.

Beloved wanted a broken heart, and I on my knees.

So now, I wring my heart, I kneel down with ease:

“Beloved! It's a pleasure to do what you please!”

Credits: Persian verse by Rumi, translated to English by Maryam Dilmaghani.
Image resourced via free web.

Bus, Hik Waari!

Amen! 

Of Scars And Warriors

We all, people of flesh, have scars. Some wear scars on their sleeve, some lock them up in the dark recesses of the heart.

A scar turns into an ugly wound when we are ashamed of having one. 

Warriors are never embarrassed of having scars. 

A warrior's wounds are a reminder of the battles they fought, of the valour they showed ... Scars are their medals! 

Embrace your brokenness and dance! For nothing is more beautiful than a broken heart that whirls holding its pieces together.

Dast afshaan chalo, mast-o-raqsaaN chalo

Khaak bar-sar chalo, khoon bada-maaN chalo!

God and Many Gods of Pakistan

In his book "The Wanderer" Kahlil Gibran writes of a city named Kilafis:

"

In the city of Kilafis a sophist stood on the steps of the Temple and preached many gods. And the people said in their hearts, "We know all this. Do they not live with us and follow us wherever we go?"

Not long after, another man stood in the market place and spoke unto the people and said, "There is no god." And many who heard him were glad of his tidings, for they were afraid of gods.

And upon another day there came a man of great eloquence, an he said, "There is but one God." And now the people were dismayed for in their hearts they feared the judgment of one God more than that of many gods.

That same season there came yet another man, and he said to the people, "There are three gods, and they dwell upon the wind as one, and they have a vast and gracious mother who is also their mate and their sister."

Then everyone was comforted, for they said in their secret, "three gods in one must needs disagree over our failings, and besides, their gracious mother will surely be an advocate for us poor weaklings."

Yet even to this day there are those in the city of Kilafis who wrangle and argue with each other about many gods and no god, and one god and three gods in one, and a gracious mother of gods.

"

In our Kilafis, that we know by the name of Pakistan, we wrangle and argue with each other about the good Taliban and the bad Taliban, and Army's shaheeds and Taliban's shaheeds and the real shaheeds.

While the wrath of them all befalls us equally.

Too Small, I Tell Myself

Sometimes this life seems too small 

To make all the voyages you want to make

To build all the bridges you want to build

To travel all the seas you want to travel
To say all the words you want to say

To fight all the demons you want to slay 

Sometimes this life seems too small

To dream all the dreams you want to dream

...

This life, in fact, is too small

I tell myself.

Only like a single grain of sand,

In which reflects the entire Sahara!

- leenah.

Life Of a Crystal

In a crystal we have the clear evidence of the existence of a formative life-principle, and though we cannot understand the life of a crystal, it is none the less a living being.

- Nikola Tesla

Reality is just that. Irrespective of our perceptions, our opinions and our understanding of it, reality prospers and flourishes.
The only bit of triumph we can achieve is in watchfulness of our intentions, of our will to understand...

Rest is,
!مالک دا کم پھل پُھل لانا، لاوے یا نہ لاوے

Untitled

GUEST BLOG POST 

This Guy’s Wife Got Cancer, So He Did Something Unforgettable, The Last 3 Photos Destroyed Me.

The first time photographer Angelo Merendino met Jennifer, he knew she was the one. They fell in love and got married in New York’s Central Park, surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones.

Five months later Jen was diagnosed with breast cancer. From Angelo’s blog: “I remember the exact moment…Jen’s voice and the numb feeling that enveloped me. That feeling has never left. I’ll also never forget how we looked into each other’s eyes and held each other’s hands. ‘We are together, we’ll be OK.’”

Throughout her battle, Angelo decided to photograph it. He wanted to humanize the face of cancer on the face of his wife. The photos speak for themselves.

Angelo and Jennifer’s story is tragic, but it’s in the face of a tragedy such as this that we rise above.

In Angelo’s case, he has started an organization to help women with their financial struggles during their trials with breast cancer.

Photo Credits: Angelo Merendino

Sourced via: http://beyondblindfold.com

Black Hole To Golden Sun

Have you seen how a stringed instrument is played? 
Strings are plucked and they vibrate, resonating, producing sound waves - a form of energy. These sound waves have the power over how we feel. Music is this powerful a tool because of the energy that travels to and interacts with us.
Imagine how energy within our thoughts impacts us!

There were some tough moments yesterday. Despite having an exhaustive day, I laid awake at night thinking about the bitterness of the day. And suddenly, as if touched by it, I realized the energy I was radiating ... it was black. I was brooding over negativity. I was letting something not me alter my system, affect my energy.

The sensation hit like a bolt of current. And I'm glad it did. I was able to direct my thought stream into a more positive direction ... thinking of how some value could be added to the coming days.

We are our thoughts. When we think negative, that negativity is what we choose to make the focus of our lens. With our focus we magnify the gloomy thought into a gloomy universe, a universe that encompasses us completely.

Shift of thought brings shift of energy.

I am glad yesterday happened. :)

Kaho Tou Raaz-e Hayat Keh Doon?

Ghunghat kay pat khol ri,

tohay Piya milain gay!

More ...

I want to see you.

Know your voice.

Recognize you when you

first come 'round the corner.

Sense your scent when I come

into a room you've just left.

Know the lift of your heel,

the glide of your foot.

Become familiar with the way

you purse your lips

then let them part,

just the slightest bit,

when I lean in to your space

and kiss you.

I want to know the joy

of how you whisper

"more."

- Rumi

Because Love Is Ether

And that's how Poe talked about Lee:

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me

- Edgar Allan Poe

When In Fields Of Mimosa And Poppy

When I love
I feel that I am the king of time
I possess the earth and everything on it
and ride into the sun upon my horse.

When I love
I become liquid light
invisible to the eye
and the poems in my notebooks
become fields of mimosa and poppy.

When I love
the water gushes from my fingers
grass grows on my tongue
when I love
I become time outside all time.

When I love a woman
all the trees
run barefoot toward me…

- Nizar Qabbani