Don’t get anxious,
about the world not happening,
it’s un-happened forever for me,
and I’m still at its throat in spite of it.
I’ve let it drive itself mad,
waiting for my approval.
It’s a dog, barking with fever,
I’ll feed it when I see fit.
-Wesam El dahabi
The pull to be pulled away,
the attraction to exile,
I’m not awkward around you,
it’s just the repulsion of my self,
outweighs my need to be with you.
W.E.
I’ve seen you at the edge of normality,
and how bored you look,
staring with trepidness,
this hyper fear,
to get near,
to the crazy insolubles,
to the protected valuables.
Did you ever think,
this fog of confusion,
this veil of seclusion,
is our choice default?
We purposely paint ourselves odd,
to be left alone by your hyper-sanity.
And you know too well
the cure for sanity,
is our insanity.
W.E.
My anxiety is a trap,
the battle in the middle of the ring,
me against myself,
knowledge and ignorance,
and the middleman trying to make them touch gloves,
is the black and white referee.
He’s black and white for a reason,
pardon me,
he’s a he and a she,
he is you and she is me,
bottled up anxiety,
is a fist and a cheek,
the powerful and the meek,
out cold, and last one standing on their feet,
in the mist of socialising breath, cigar and cheap perfume filled arena’s,
or alone with a street lamp in the street.
It’s seeing the punch coming,
knowing how to avoid it,
but knowing your bound by the rules of fate,
and copping it sweet.
It’s looking your opponent in their eyes,
when done is done,
smiling the smile of knowledge,
both of you aware,
you could have beaten him any time you chose,
but you were stunted,
and bound by what God wanted.
In essence,
your anxiety,
the hue that haunts you,
undecided on black or white,
trying to mix a palette of grey,
is a reluctance to submit,
knowing,
you are most definitely not in charge.
You can very well have all the foresight in the world,
and knowledge of the sages,
it means nothing,
if you don’t accept,
what is written,
in ages,
in predestined pages.
W.E.
They told me, go for a walk, get some shut eye, clear your mind.
FOOLS!
What would they know? Mindless drivel at it’s best because what they don’t realise is, I don’t want my mind cleared.
No, I’m quite happy lingering in these thoughts, sifting through the web of confusion, the echoes of pain that percuss off the valleys and mountains of my soul, haunting it with a northerly wind carrying the scent of uncertainty, through rocks, rustling restless leaves until they settle on the garden beds of meadows and compost into the soil of my heart.
I’ll sit right here in this corner, away enough for you to not be the piece of furniture in your way, quite content to have these thoughts punishing me, rummaging through my being enticing every cell of my body to engage in recreating memories or forging the future.
What you don’t realise is that clearing your mind is emptying your soul of substance.
Pain is there to help you grow.
Confusion is there to help you figure things out, to allow your brain to exercise.
Sadness is there so you may elate in the joy and know it’s value when it hits you in the front teeth, lest you remain an ingrate.
The voices are there not because you’re a schizophrenic, but because they’re meant to keep you company and offer you another perspective to the one you harbour in your heart, be it at the opposite end of the spectrum or merely a few inches away from where your thoughts currently reside, still you need something off course to correct your path and purify it.
Anger is there to keep you on your toes, alert so you never sway from clarity of purpose.
Whatever it is, don’t be a numb and mindless drone, subservient to the commands of the mundane. Ride the edge of your character and crack its whip until your fingers bleed or your mind annihilates.
-ME
A man who pretends to be the king of his business better be prepared to share the spoils of war with his men.
Hear ye narcissist,
Nay, here, ye narcissist.
That is of course what you want to hear.
Were it not for your ability to make others see your reflection,
Then your image would not have blinded you from realising that all along,
They let you keep your spoils because of understanding just how much you could not stand yourself.
They saw your pain, your emptiness, your discontent and let you have it all.
But of course, you’re the king and they the subservient.
You did nothing at all but a wink alludes you,
Whilst they rest their brow after a days toil.
Not my allegory, story or anecdote but a brilliant read.
A boat was docked in a tiny Mexican fishing village.
A tourist complimented the local fishermen on the quality of their fish and… asked how long it took to catch them.
“Not very long” they answered in unison.
“Why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?”
The fishermen explained that their small catches were sufficient to meet their needs and those of their families.
“But what do you do with the rest of your time?”
“We sleep late, fish a little, play with our children, and take siestas with our wives. In the evenings, we go into the village to see our friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs.
We have a full life.”The tourist interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”
“And after that?”
“With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.
Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!!! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise.”“How long would that take?”
“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years.” replied the tourist.
“And after that?”
“Afterwards? Well my friend, that’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the tourist, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!”
“Millions? Really? And after that?” asked the fishermen.
“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”
“With all due respect sir, but that’s exactly what we are doing now. So what’s the point wasting twenty-five years?” asked the Mexicans.
And the moral of this story is:
Know where you’re going in life, you may already be there! Many times in life, money is not everything.
“Live your life before life becomes lifeless”
Contentment is a cup of tea in silence to the whirlwind of complaints of your ego.
Contentment is the Bedouin who proclaims ‘It is written’ when sand fills his eyes, destroys his flock, or ravishes his home.
Contentment is the smile after the amputee wakes up knowing full well they won’t run again.
Contentment is little Hassan, running in the street with his kite in between shelling sessions.
Contentment is a husband telling his wife she made a hearty meal even when he disproves.
Contentment is saying thank you Lord, even when you’ve lost everything you own.
Contentment is beginning a meal with praise and ending in praise without ever throwing a mouthful away.
Contentment is the little boy who sees his father’s struggle to make ends meet and holds his tongue from asking for the latest toy.
Contentment is the man, full of ideas, full of dreams, holding himself back from those very things in order to provide for his family.
Contentment is the happiness you feel when someone else achieves success through the fruits of your labour.
Contentment is the cup of black water you drink with a smile whilst others die of thirst.
Contentment is a lot of things, insert your belief here but the Prophet Muhammad said it best when he described contentment as a treasure chest that never vanquishes. To elucidate that point, the most vile thing a human can do is to be a miser with their gratitude, to be ill content. A prominent Shaykh of our time said: “The punishment of the people who are malcontent, is the way they are.The believer emulates the examples set forth by his Almighty Master who commences his most noble book with Alhamdullillah, All praise is due to Allah.”
Therein are signs for those who reflect – Quran 45:13
“An optimist is simply a man who hasn’t heard the news.”
OR woman for that matter.
No it’s not someone who doesn’t watch the news. Let’s not all become literalists now, rather it’s someone who is so tunnel visioned that they block out all unnecessary feedback, all input, all incoming data streams to purify their thoughts and only focus on what they want.
Granted, the news is one cesspool of negativity, I have no idea why intelligent people actually indulge in it…… Hang on, they don’t.
Next time you wonder why your state of affairs is in disarray, hold the mirror up and take a long hard look at your indulgences. TV, news, slapstick shows, cinema, media etc…… well you know your answer.
I have revisited this quote countless times this week and I feel I will visit it countless more. A reminder of the nature of affairs.
Fatalism, as an attitude to life in general, is retrospective. Only when something has happened can we say that it had to happen. The notion that it makes people inactive is disproved by experience. The courage of the Prophet’s Companions, going into battle against overwhelming odds, must certainly have owed something to the conviction that the outcome of the battle was in God’s hands, not theirs, and that they would die not a moment before or after “a time appointed”. If their time had not yet come, the enemy’s weaponry would prove to be no more dangerous than a child’s toys; if they were fated to meet their end that day, nothing they did could prevent this. In our time, countless men and women suffer extreme stress in their work and this is often due to the belief that “everything depends on me”. For the Muslim, everything depends on God; nothing “depends on me”. Paradoxical as it may seem, the conviction that all is pre-ordained is liberating, whereas belief in total freedom of choice creates, for those who hold it, a prison of anxiety and uncertainty. It is for us to act. The outcome of our actions is God’s business, not ours. It is for us to do what is right under all circumstances. Subsequent failures does not mean that right action was, after all, wrong.
From Charles Le Gai Eaton’s book Remembering God
A supplication taught to Muslims by the Prophet Muhammad. On reflection, it is easy to adapt this into your life no matter what your religious inclination.
lonerloaner 