Renowned Muslim thinker and scholar Hamza Yusuf recounts a story when he was in the Mauritanian desert under tutelage from great masters who have carried on proper Islamic tradition and scholarship down to students for hundreds of years. He was cleaning under his nails with a pen when something struck him upside the head. His teacher threw something at him and told him, “Hamza, God has sworn an oath by the pen”. He immediately understood his mistake at disrespecting the otherwise inanimate object. (1)
But look at who he is now.
When you have such reverence for things, you can then pass on value to your family, students, friends and more.
Where is the reverence and respect for those sacred things?
(1) Quran Chapter 68 is titled ‘The Pen’ and begins it’s first verse with God swearing an oath by the pen. “Nun. By the pen and what they inscribe,”
Some people need to be shredded with words,
Others need to be taught with a sword.
What is society willing to afford?
Has man lost his way,
Severed the umbilical cord?
The attachment to all that is good and pure,
And can nothing more say?
Last two post didn’t work too well. So here it is again.
Reblogged from here:
You can watch it here: https://vimeo.com/ondemand/wearepoets
Caffeine coursed veins
Lead to empty hall brains
With no lights on
But echoes of chains
The pains, the strains
The soul drained.
No we’re not at all insane
Just wanting higher plains
Trying to leave our mark, our stain
Not wanting to be contained
Trying to unshackle
Until none of me remains
And my ego does not complain
My spirit can soar, unrestrained
My attention to The Real
Not the profane, not the mundane
And I no longer feign
Franz Kafka said to his adoring Fiance
You once said that you would like to sit beside me while I write. Listen, in that case I could not write at all. For writing means revealing oneself to excess; that utmost of self-revelation and surrender, in which a human being, when involved with others, would feel he was losing himself, and from which, therefore, he will always shrink as long as he is in his right mind. That is why one can never be alone enough when one writes, why there can never be enough silence around one when one writes, why even night is not night enough.
Yes, this true! I agree wholeheartedly with him. Any writer that needs an audience to complete his work is a show pony, not a stallion of the desert of words.