If I had to sum up my 2010 in one word, it would be, "wow". I'm not exaggerating in the slightest here. If I made a list of all the significant things that have happened to me this year, I don't think I thought more than 5% were even possible, this time last year. In fact, it's come to the point where my best friend and I have begun constructing a list of "impossibilities" to tick off as they become realities as our lives progress. Right now, the list is about three A4 pages long.
Pretty much nothing went to plan this year except my A Level results. Instead, I've been blessed with opportunity upon opportunity, experience after experience, I feel like I've become more..."me". I couldn't be more grateful for the way things have turned out and the way this year has changed me. Though I'm nowhere near, I feel like this year has brought me a lot closer to what and who and how I aim to be in this life. If there's one lesson I've learnt this year, it is that truly, whatever God plans for us is for the best.
Sunday, 26 December 2010
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Dua
This has been playing on my mind a lot lately- I really underestimate the power of duas. I don't want to, but it's just one of those notions that is so deeply engraved in my mind without me realising. I don't want to go into why I feel this way, but today I heard something that I hope will change my mindset with regards to du3a.
The speaker said that every dua has an answer. Yes, every single one. When we ask for a dua, there are three possible outcomes-
1) Allah answers that dua and grants us what we asked for
2) Allah, in his infinite wisdom knows that what we have asked for is not in our best interest and gives us something better instead
3) We receive neither what we asked for, nor something better, but instead, Allah solves a problem from our lives, relieves a hardship, removes an obstacle.
He also talked about how we should ask with insistence and begging, the same way I so often beg my parents for something. The sad thing is, I hardly find myself asking for anything and trust me, it's not because I don't need to. Whatever it is that stops me from asking, I hope I can correct it soon.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
I Do Not Know
How I must beg, I do not know,
Now I’ve learnt to let these tears flow,
For I’ve begged you and with you I’ve pleaded,
And maybe your nearness, some others have needed,
But you know who I am and you know what I need,
Is it the pain when I feel my heart bleed?
Tell me how to beg, for I do not know,
How do I see your golden dome glow?
My tears have been shed and my soul has felt sorrow,
And desperation has set for news of tomorrow,
And disappointments of which I have lost count,
Aren’t these reasons enough? Too small in amount?
But how I must beg, I do not know,
So now I beg you to teach me and show.
To your love, I’ve submitted, for how can one not?
And of my life’s story, I’ve made you the plot,
I’ve discarded of any beginning or end,
For I know that my heart, only you can mend,
But to beg you better, I just don’t know how,
A lifetime’s attempts and in shame, I still bow.
Regarding my worth, I will not speak,
For in you and your service, my own worth, I seek,
But tell me what in my pleading is wrong,
Is the pain in my love for you not strong?
I will not ask you, from me, what you want,
For what king can gain from his servant’s servant?
All I ask is, my emptiness you understand,
My craving to weep on Karbala’s sand,
The heavenly walk, baynol haramayn,
To shout with the millions, “Labbaika ya Hussain”,
To drown in your love and to die in that state,
Be worthy of smelling the scent of your gate,
To look up into your once-red, blue sky,
And have no sense but to helplessly cry,
In awe of your beauty and the fact that I’m here,
In the hope that I might return in a year,
And the realisation that this isn’t a dream,
Blinded by this love and your dome’s golden beam,
The heat of the sun striking all those in black,
To walk towards your shrine and never look back,
Relive your sorrow and make it my own,
Watch your black flag in the wind, being blown,
To feel a long-lost peace in my heart,
Forgetting that from here, we’ll all once depart,
Engrave these memories deep in my soul,
For my emptiness to fill, making me whole.
And for the rest of my life, to live on these tears,
If you’d just end the waiting I’ve done for these years.
Allahumma irzoqni ziyaratel Hussein (a.s.)
Now I’ve learnt to let these tears flow,
For I’ve begged you and with you I’ve pleaded,
And maybe your nearness, some others have needed,
But you know who I am and you know what I need,
Is it the pain when I feel my heart bleed?
Tell me how to beg, for I do not know,
How do I see your golden dome glow?
My tears have been shed and my soul has felt sorrow,
And desperation has set for news of tomorrow,
And disappointments of which I have lost count,
Aren’t these reasons enough? Too small in amount?
But how I must beg, I do not know,
So now I beg you to teach me and show.
To your love, I’ve submitted, for how can one not?
And of my life’s story, I’ve made you the plot,
I’ve discarded of any beginning or end,
For I know that my heart, only you can mend,
But to beg you better, I just don’t know how,
A lifetime’s attempts and in shame, I still bow.
Regarding my worth, I will not speak,
For in you and your service, my own worth, I seek,
But tell me what in my pleading is wrong,
Is the pain in my love for you not strong?
I will not ask you, from me, what you want,
For what king can gain from his servant’s servant?
All I ask is, my emptiness you understand,
My craving to weep on Karbala’s sand,
The heavenly walk, baynol haramayn,
To shout with the millions, “Labbaika ya Hussain”,
To drown in your love and to die in that state,
Be worthy of smelling the scent of your gate,
To look up into your once-red, blue sky,
And have no sense but to helplessly cry,
In awe of your beauty and the fact that I’m here,
In the hope that I might return in a year,
And the realisation that this isn’t a dream,
Blinded by this love and your dome’s golden beam,
The heat of the sun striking all those in black,
To walk towards your shrine and never look back,
Relive your sorrow and make it my own,
Watch your black flag in the wind, being blown,
To feel a long-lost peace in my heart,
Forgetting that from here, we’ll all once depart,
Engrave these memories deep in my soul,
For my emptiness to fill, making me whole.
And for the rest of my life, to live on these tears,
If you’d just end the waiting I’ve done for these years.
Allahumma irzoqni ziyaratel Hussein (a.s.)
Friday, 3 December 2010
Muharram
I feel like Muharram is already here. I've been waiting for it so eagerly that I think the atmosphere is beginning to set. Why I want it to be Muharram so desperately, I don't know. There are too many possible reasons.
Over the last few days, I keep remembering moments from Muharram last year- it was winter, it had snowed, it was the first Muharram for Ahlulbayt TV, my best friend had gone to Karbala, and I had exams. Muharram last year was a struggle and I guess that made it much sweeter. I remember times when the worry about my upcoming exams just vanished when the live feed from Karbala was on TV, or when I would motivate myself to work with Sayed Modaressi's 10PM lecture in mind. Everything that wasn't related to Muharram just seemed like a distracting nuisance.
This year, there's a different struggle. Perhaps I can call it a struggle of patience? I've never wanted to visit Imam Hussein (as) so desperately. A few people who are very dear to me have been blessed enough to go, and surprisingly, that gives me a sense of relief. I feel like a very tiny part of me is going with them, like they strengthen my connection with Imam Hussein (as) when they go. I'm genuinely very grateful that they are going- firstly, because of this relief that I just explained, and secondly, because sometimes I look our situations and I feel that they need the relief of Imam Hussein (as) more than I do. They deserve the relief of Imam Hussein (as) more than I do.
This year, a lot of my birthday wishes were accompanied with du'as that my next birthday present will be to spend the first ten days of Muharram in Karbala. I cannot express how grateful I am for those du'as, they are better than any other present I could have possibly received.
Over the last few days, I keep remembering moments from Muharram last year- it was winter, it had snowed, it was the first Muharram for Ahlulbayt TV, my best friend had gone to Karbala, and I had exams. Muharram last year was a struggle and I guess that made it much sweeter. I remember times when the worry about my upcoming exams just vanished when the live feed from Karbala was on TV, or when I would motivate myself to work with Sayed Modaressi's 10PM lecture in mind. Everything that wasn't related to Muharram just seemed like a distracting nuisance.
This year, there's a different struggle. Perhaps I can call it a struggle of patience? I've never wanted to visit Imam Hussein (as) so desperately. A few people who are very dear to me have been blessed enough to go, and surprisingly, that gives me a sense of relief. I feel like a very tiny part of me is going with them, like they strengthen my connection with Imam Hussein (as) when they go. I'm genuinely very grateful that they are going- firstly, because of this relief that I just explained, and secondly, because sometimes I look our situations and I feel that they need the relief of Imam Hussein (as) more than I do. They deserve the relief of Imam Hussein (as) more than I do.
This year, a lot of my birthday wishes were accompanied with du'as that my next birthday present will be to spend the first ten days of Muharram in Karbala. I cannot express how grateful I am for those du'as, they are better than any other present I could have possibly received.
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