I draw closer,
you withdraw,
I caress you,
you flinch,
I smile,
you frown,
I hold you,
you slip away,
I bear my soul,
you shroud yours,
I love you...
and you look on, speechless.

Yesterday I was riding on forest parkway and I beheld a scene which perfectly summarizes America: two old white men driving around in a golf cart while two black men sit on tractors, watching. Astaghfirullah for being part of this country!

Crescent moon rising,
sleek, silvery guardian of the night.
How many faces lie behind your horned visage?
How many of love?
Of brotherhood?
My fate is tied to you;
as you rise, I rise,
as you set, I set.
Could it be any other way?
Allaahu Akbaar.

I do not understand why some of my Sisters and Brothers say that Muhammad Asad denied the existence of Jinn. In the third appendix to his tranlsation of Al-Quran (http://www.geocities.com/masad02/) Asad not only affirms their existence, but gives an articulate account of them! Is any one who dares to break out of the established mold of Tafsir destined to be reckoned a heretic?

"We treated them like animals. Because that's how we had to treat 'em, because they were used to a dictator. They only responded to threats."

Roger Lint, US Army Veteran of Iraq

Asshole.

NPR All Things Considered Sept. 26

I've been reading IBN Warrag's "Leaving Islam;" he discusses Muslim converts to Christianity. Contrary to popular myth, Muslims DO convert. Unfortunately, Warraq is so afraid of Islam that he treats this a positive step. The reality, however, is quite different.
These converts are not becoming Liberal Episcopalians; they are becoming fundamentalists, often pentecostals, with a social agenda just as conservative as their Muslim counterparts. They may not force women to wear Hijab, but they do dominate them in the families, bar them from work and education, curtail their reproductive freedom, and force them to submit to that product of malignant genius known as female circumcision. And whereas Islam teaches rebellion against unjust authority, the Christian ethic leads one to kowtow to it. Hardly an improvement.

[22]

I am not here for ever in this world;
How sinful then to forfeit wine and love!
The world may be eternal or created;
Once I am gone, it matters not a scrap.

[23]

When once you hear the roses are in bloom,
Then is the time, my love, to pour the wine;
Houris and palaces and Heaven and Hell-
These are but fairy-tales, forget them all.

-Umar Khayyam

Steel angels rain down fire
upon women, children.
Glittering in the madding sun,
they return to Zion.

Are they conscious of what they do?
Do they knowingly purchase death with death?
Death visited upon school children.
Death visited upon the disabled.
Death visited upon the sinner and the righteous.

No. Cold steel and hot chemicals
are only tools,
monuments to the malefic of the
Western mind.
And so the curse reigns down upon
the unfortunate,
before blowing across the green-line
and engulfing Zion itself.

I watched Jenin, Jenin for the second time tonight. I cannot express the horror I feel at sight of what my Palestinian sisters and brothers endure. These beautiful people, with a beautiful culture, a beautiful Din... and they are reduced to shattered, scattered refugees, hounded and harassed no matter where they go. And branded as 'terrorists' when they do what any human being would do in their place- defend themselves. I am utterly ashamed to know that my tax money goes to support this unjust and utterly repugnant occupation; they only thing I can do to make amends is to make known their plight, to fight for their cause in this country, and, insha'allah, to travel to Palestine and share in their plight directly.

Edward Said has died. While I do not always agree with his analyses of Orientalism and find the writing style he employs in those critiques to be overly opaque, I have a great deal of respect for what he has done to make the plight of the Palestinian people known to the rest of world. He will be missed; with his death we have lost an intelligent and articulate critic of imperialism and of the ill uses to which the West puts its economic, political, and technological clout. RIP.

My love scourges like fire,
cleansing the impure soul
by the alchemy of passion.

I am redeemed by that
which is implanted in me
from without;
by my birthright:
the longing for the right
and the just,
the desire to incarnate the ideal
in my actions.

Call me Muslim;
I submit to the will of my Creator.
To the will that wishes ill to none
and love for all.
To the will which guides to
the Straight Path.
To the will which calls me
to my homeland: Paradise.

I'm happy today. It looks like I might not go out today, as I had hoped, but I'm still happy.
I quit my paper route, but I'm still happy. I think the key is the love of Allah. Islam, and life in general, can seem like an ubearable burden of rules, expectations, and duties; religion begins to become a negative inducement, via the fear of punishment in the next life. The secret to overcoming doubts, disillusionment, and despair is to make religion a positive inducement. And this inducement is the love of Allah and of His creation, a love which persists in spite of doubt and in spite of the aspersions of others both within and without your religious community. I may have doubts about this or that doctrine, but I still love Allah, I still love to pray, I still love my fellow creatures; I still love being a Muslim. And that's infinitely more importmant then this or that interpretation of this or that hadith (or whether said hadith is sound or doubtful). It is crucial to avoid the legalism that is so deadly to the spirit of religion: legalism entails misery, both in one's inner life and in one's dealing with others. So.... I may doubt, but even while doubting I love- my intellect is not fettered by my heart, my heart is not made leaden by my intellect. Oh... and you-know-who: I'll check back around 4:00- if you still want to do something, AIM me or e-mail me; we'll work something out. If not, go in peace and know that I'm happy that you're happy; we'll hang some other time.

I can't stop writing in this thing. I'm such a fool. I have so many intentions and desires and I seem to have a praeternatural ability to act in just that way which would destroy any hope of them being realized. Or at least it seems like that to me. And I have a truly remarkable talent for alienating people; no matter how open and kind they are, I will inevitably do something to make me appear as a plague victim to them- something to be pitied but kept at a distance.
I long so much for so many things and I hate accepting that those longings will go unfulfilled. And the worst part is that I generate the impression that I want to either get everyone to think like me or that I like to judge others. And I don't.
I just want to understand- to understand what other people think and why they think it; -to understand what I _really_ think (as opposed to what I think I think) and why I think it. And I can't do that sitting in Descarte's oven. I have to converse, to dialogue with strangers, co-workers and, most important of all to me, my friends. I don't want to dominate others or to be aggressive. I often go through periods of shock at what I do to other people unintentionally. I just want to find some kindred spirits, fellow travelers who aren't afraid to criticize or be criticized (provided its done out of a love of truth and charity). I don't want to tame anyone and I don't want anyone to tame me. I've made the foolish mistake of attempting the former and have had the latter happen to me, and I grieve my sins in both regards. I want to live a life worth living, devoted to doing the right, developing my intellect, and enjoying the pleasures of companionship. Am I wrong? Am I too caustic or too idealistic? Sometimes I think I annoy people by taking myself down a peg before they get a chance to do it. As a result, the anger never gets spent at the best time and lingers in a way which is injurious to the relationships I try to co-create. And I can be so intense. I have reserviors of devotion deep like the trenches of the Pacific, devotion to friends, lovers and ideals; I think this scares most people. But I can't help it. And I don't want to help it. I don't want to live a half-life without this passion. I feel my passion, my joy, my misery- I'd live a life hellish emptiness without it. So if I am hurt, I'll relish that hurt- I'll cry out in anger at the world, at the way it forces women and men to behave towards one another, at the way it forces people to behave towards those who are different, and I'll let the anger simmer down until I can do something constructive with it. It's so wierd: I can love anyone with a total love; the love just takes possession of me and doesn't care whom the recipient is. But those to whom I am most attracted, those whom I _want_ to love always seem to exist in parallel universe- I can reach out and try to touch them, but my hand just passes through them. I used to think it was just a lack of confidence, a lack of courage. But I think it's just that I have an acute case of the tragic sense of life; that somehow fate really is decreeing the limits of my freedom- that no matter how I may act on my desires, certain things will never happen. My Lord, I hope I'm wrong.

Some old ones:


Is dying like waking

Is dying like waking
To the light of another life?
Will I wipe the sleep from my eyes
And wonder at my fading dream?
Would I be the dream or the dreamer?
If memory fades with waking,
Then I evaporate into the cool air.
If it endures, I endure
Through an endless stream of lives,
Each waking into the other.
What hope is there in life everlasting?
I shall either change and die
Or endure to no end.
Sleep is best then:
Joy is perfected in passing.

Landscape #1

Flying in the confident breeze,
The flags overstep their bounds
And tile the path to-
Where?

A future where blood and tears
Briefly mingle before subsiding
Into the sickly-pale void?

Perhaps they form a platform
For the contest of giants,
Each easily assured of victory,
Each blow making the other bold,
Until the spectators are drawn in
And hurled like boulders.

Or they are a vast and composite shroud,
The covering of some slain God,
Whom the mourners conduct to the shores of Lethe,
Before abandoning their charge to the slow, silent waters.


Reflections on my 22nd Birthday

It's raining manna as I drive through
The broad road to the north
Memory burning in my mind
Groaning wheel turning in stained hands.

In reflection my life becomes a trembling
Mummers dance; movement with a deadly
Certainty, a frantic pace and no purpose.

No religion, no philosophy can alleviate
My suspicions, suspicions without form,
Inchoate and rooted deep in my heart.

Faith in saviour gods, submission to empty
Rituals and the laws of the dead and damned,
Indifference sprinkled with pity...

No solution, no solace, not even sincerity,
No salvation as the manna turns to blood
And the traffic moves on.

Cognitive Dissonance- the Story of my life.

Here's a poem I wrote before I went down to the Ocean during the Hurricane:

Cacophany rings from the trees
as amorous birds roost.

Startled, they take flight,
higher,higher,
striving to break gravity's
adamantine bonds.

But soon Death calls,
the Decree takes wing,
and like slain Angels
they plummet
to a lonely grave
among the stones of Earth.

There are signs
for those who think.

Or here's an ex tempore one:

Dhikr is like a fire
kindled by two sticks.
Nothing at first
but the hollow
call of emptiness.
But then a spark
then a flame,
and then a blazing fire.
Consuming my being,
consuming all of creation,
with the Love of Allah.

Hello, everyone (assuming there is an everyone out there). At the suggestion of a friend I created this blog in order to sort my thoughts out and clarify my beliefs, my sense of identity. I'm going through very confusing time right now, and it seems as if who I am is in flux. It's wierd; lately its been pointed out to me that I am a "white" guy and I find this most puzzling. I don't feel "white." My parents never taught me to be "white." I've had numerous racial epithets hurled at me and, for some reason that is beyond me, everyone likes to try and guess my ethnicity. So I am utterly confused. I know who I am ideologically. I am progressive. I am Muslim (even if not a good one). I am skeptical. I love science and philosophy. But I dislike most american "culture." I think it is the symbolic expression of an imperialist drive for power, a testimony to the rampant greed which has become the popular religion and the lingua franca. As a result I have no set communal identity; my bond with other Muslims is ideological and is jeopardized whenever my skepticism gets the better with me. Moreover, you can't rely on a community formed over common interests to support you through unrelated difficulties. So, disgusted with my "native" culture and at times alienated from the culture I have adopted, I am forced to cope with my difficulties alone, with the exception of the few good friends who are gracious enough to provide a sympathetic ear and to wrestle with me intellectually (you know who you are). To them I am as grateful as the bird is to the sky. I honestly don't know what the end of all this will be. I do know that I need to work it out or I won't be able to live with myself.

Salaam.