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don’t give money to the Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh

don’t give money so that people can have latrines

don’t give money so that people can eat rice

don’t give money for anything

especially not schools with a basic education

or trauma care for women who were gang raped

it’s not important

you’ll never meet these people

and they’ll never call you out

for forgetting about them

or siding with their oppressors

no one is going to say you are a bad person

if you just pass this off to the government of Bangladesh

so don’t waste your money

on people who don’t matter

According to the UN, it requires app. $900 million to run the refugee camps in 2019. Less than $400 million has been raised.

because of you

because of you

i can see the light in the darkness

when a people are surrounded by their oppressor

when a loved one’s body is wasting away from disease

when the wrongdoer goes free and the patient suffer

when a tragedy wipes away the happiness of a family

 

when death finally comes

as it always does

 

in all situations

my Imam

i see you

i see your headless body on the ground

i see your sister crying over you

i see your son carried away in chains

and i know

that your Lord hears all prayers

and is always with us

forever

 

because of you

hope can never die

ya Husayn

Imam_hussein-Ashura-Karbala_(30)

a truth so deep

A peasant tied his cow in the stable, in its place;

A lion ate his cow, and sat there with grace.

 

The peasant went to the stable, seeking his cow;

Groping in the night, he got there somehow.

 

He was patting the body of the lion thereof;

Its back and its side, below and above.

 

“If he has more light, his gallbladder would burst,

And his heart would melt,” the lion thought at first.

 

“He’s stroking me like this? Isn’t he bold?

He thinks that I am his cow in his hold.”

 

God says, “You fool, where is your shame?

Did not the mount collapse at My Name?

 

Had We sent down a book on a mountain, you would see;

That the rocks divide, shatter, and then flee.

 

If Mount Uhud had been acquainted with Me,

Rivers of blood would have gushed from its knee.

 

So heedless you are from a truth so deep,

You’ve heard it from your parents, so you take it so cheap.

 

If this knowledge of yours were without imitation,

You would be an angel, free of limitation.”

 

[poem recited by Sayyid Hashim Haddad (on left in picture) at his first meeting with his disciple Sayyid Muhammad Husayn Husayni Tihrani (on right), trans. by Tawus Raja in Liberated Soul]

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The Prophet ﷺ was reportedly asked: “Which of our companions are best?” He replied: “One whose appearance reminds you of God, and whose speech increases you in knowledge, and whose actions remind you of the hereafter.”

 

I had the first surgery of my life a week ago, to repair an injury to my left knee.

This morning was the first time I was capable of leaving the house, to get a cup of coffee. Even though it was a slow and awkward journey on my crutches, it was a thrilling experience.

I have always striven to be grateful for what I have been blessed with, but you can never truly be as grateful for something as when it is taken away. You just can’t.

Had I ever thanked God in my entire life for my left knee?

Sure, I have thanked God for my health many many times, in many different ways. And fear of losing my health has even driven me deeper into reliance upon and hope in God’s generosity.

But had I ever thanked God for my left knee?

For all the sports I played when I was younger, all the jumping around on stage with a guitar or stomping away on the hi-hat pedal, all the adventures I have gone on, all predicated on my left knee functioning properly?

Did I ever thank God for my left knee?

For the ability to make prostration smoothly during prayer, sit on the ground relatively comfortably during a sacred gathering, or go back and forth between Safa and Marwa without pain?

Had I ever thanked God for my left knee?

For all the walks I have been on with my wife or son or friends or parents, strolling around, taking in the sights, lost in conversation?

Had I ever taken the time, even once, to say thank you to my Creator for giving me a left knee in the first place and preserving it from major damage for 40 years?

No.

So even though it is a too little too late, thank You, God, for my left knee.

And my right knee too 😉

ما شاء الله لا قوة إلا بالله

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after all is said and done

after 20 years of effort and choices

the plain truth is

i have been given that which is uncountable

and so what i have done

is insignificant

as an expression of true gratitude

and what i should not have done

means i owe even more thanks

for the forgiveness without which i am lost

so whichever way i turn

there is the Generous starting back at me

and all i can do is bow down

offer inadequate praise

and submit

to the Lord of ‘Ali

اللهم صل على محمد و آل محمد

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Now that we are approaching the middle of the month of Ramadan, it is a good time to candidly reflect.

Shaytan hasn’t whispered in our ear for almost two weeks, and our nafs ‘ammārah (selfishness) is weakened by the rigors of fasting. In the last third of the month, many of us like to disconnect and find more privacy, but before we do that, it is a good time to take stock of ourselves in relation to the wider community of which we are a part. If we can’t speak purely and clearly and honestly at this time of the year, then perhaps we should all live lives of silence.

For this reflection, I want to highlight the disunity of the Muslim community and one of its primary causes. Many otherwise pious Muslims have isolated themselves within imagined communities of sanctity and grace. Whether it is the Sufi who is at home in Istanbul and Abu Dhabi, or the Shi’i who shuttles between Qum and Karbala, or the Salafi who only finds comfort in Makkah and Madinah, we create boxes of who is “in” and who is “out” and only spend time with those we believe are “in.” We speak about how pious so and so is, how Shaykh such and such wrote some great text, and refuse, either through silence or avoidance or just plain ignorance, to engage the Other.

I have benefitted from Shaykh ibn Uthaymeen (one of the most respected Salafi scholars of the 20th century), from Shaykh Habib Ahmad Mashhur al-Haddad (one of the most respected Sufis of the 20th century), and Ayatollah Khomeini (one of the most respected Shi’is of the 20th century). More than that, I have benefitted from Thomas Merton (a famous Catholic monk of the 20th century), A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami (a famous Hindu monk of the 20th century), and Carl Sagan (a famous atheist astrophysicist of the 20th century). They are all “my teachers,” one way or another, and for their role in my life I am grateful, even though I never had the opportunity to meet any of them.

Deep down, I may have some sort of imagined hierarchy in my mind about who is “closest” and who is “farthest” from The Creator (al-Khāliq), The Originator (al-Bāri’), The Fashioner (al-Muṣawwir). But when I get real with God, I know that I don’t know. All I know with certainty is that God created them and us, and will perfectly assign all of us our next-worldly situations. All I know is that they are human beings who live on the planet Earth, I am a human being who lives on the same planet, and we are all going to die just like they already have. I have met good people who are absolutely convinced that one of them, or a group of them, are certainly better than the others. So much so that it would actually cause a type of physical discomfort to imagine that they might be wrong, and the person they see as misguided is actually the closest to God.

The fact of the matter is that each of us are bound by material conditions to act. And that imagined hierarchy is what determines, to a certain extent, how we choose to act. So if I think that so and so is the highest, I will try to emulate them, and if I think such and such is the lowest, I will avoid them. That is something we are bound to do, and The Merciful Benefactor (al-Rahmān) is not going to judge us for it. But we err when we unjustifiably make claims about “our teachers” that give them a status in eternity that they may not have. And we compound that error when we use that claim to set ourselves off from others in the belief that we are “in.”

I say this because I have seen really good people do it. As far as I can tell, it is a spiritual challenge especially for those who have committed themselves to serious study and practice of Islam. It often comes from people who, in the next breath, will say that they know nothing and everyone is better than them. But their actions speak louder than their words. It is very clear who they think is the salt of the earth, and that they are honored by their connections to them.

It is better to simply do our best and leave the rest to Allah. If you believe following Habib ‘Umar (a contemporary Sufi leader) is necessary for you to prepare for the Last Day, then Allah bless you and guide you. If you believe that following Ayatollah Sistani (a contemporary Shi’i leader) is the best way to emulate the Sunnah, then Allah bless you and guide you. If you believe that following Shaykh Salman al-Ouda (a contemporary Salafi leader) is the safest way to Allah, then Allah bless you and guide you. If you believe that Seyyed Hossein Nasr (a contemporary Perennialist leader) has it all figured out, then Allah bless you and guide you.

But just please please please don’t highlight your personally necessary choice of teachers in communal settings where it is not necessary. And please please please be willing to try something different. Try studying with someone else’s teacher. Read someone else’s books. Go on someone else’s pilgrimage tour. Speak in someone else’s masjid or summer program.

And if you are fearful of the repercussions of this, both in terms of income and reputation, ask yourself this – “Am I sincere enough with God that if I lost this position and no one listens to me anymore and I make no income from it, I will still carry on because I am doing it for God?”

If the answer is yes, then you have nothing to fear.

If the answer is no, then you shouldn’t be opening your mouth to teach Islam in the first place. Go get another job, and figure out your heart before you die.

When Musa came back from the mountain and grilled Harun for allowing the community to build the golden calf while he was absent, Harun said:

“I was afraid you would say, ‘You have caused division among the children of Israel!'” (20.93)

If a prophet himself was afraid of breaking up the community over idol worship, then what exactly are we afraid of by increasing our engagement with those Muslims who have different teachers than us as their sanad (link) to the Prophet Muhammad and wasīla (means) to understanding the Holy Qur’an?

اللهم صل على محمد و آل محمد

PlanetOrbits

14 Oceans

a life in preparation

to take one sip

from 14 oceans

 

drunk on God

soul struggling to be freed from body

willing to trade life away

 

drink again

and again

and again

 

each satiation

follows into a new thirst

which is again satiated

 

from 14 oceans

upon whose shores i wander

unable to fathom

the depths of what they contain

 

“Truly, the Prophet (S) cannot be described, and how could a servant be described whom God, the Almighty and the Glorious, has concealed with seven veils and made obedience to him in the earth like obedience to God in the heavens, declaring, ‘And whatsoever the Messenger gives you, take it. And whatsoever he forbids, abstain from it.’ And ‘Whoever obeys him assuredly obeys Me, and whoever disobeys him disobeys Me.’ Hence, God has delegated authority to him. And we cannot be described…” -Imām al-Bāqir عليه السلام

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