I had a bit of a wake-up call a few days ago when a friend and I started talking about ambitions. For a while, I'd been worrying about not being motivated enough to do certain things that I need to do, namely surviving university for the next 5 years. The truth is, I'd forgotten to be ambitious.
I've always said that education is a means, not an end for me but until recently, I hadn't actually thought about what the end actually is. I mean, the end is good- I knew that much, but I hadn't thought about specifics until a few days ago and after thinking about it, I think I'm quite motivated.
But I haven't made this entry to go on about my ambitions- I've made it because I find it somewhat depressing that so many people forget to be ambitious. There's no harm in thinking big. In fact, if anything, having these ambitions in mind must increase the chances of their realisation. What is life without ambitions? It's merely survival, not really living.
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Overrated
I make it a point not to blog when I'm feeling down because I know I'll probably disagree with what I write when I'm back in my right mind again, which is why I've been putting off this entry for quite a while now. However, I think maybe I'd mistaken pessimism for realism in that time, so here goes.
The world is truly overrated. Every "good" thing can go unimaginably wrong, one benefit doesn't come without the sacrifice of another, life will test us with the things we least expect and want it to test us. Then again, what else is life supposed to be? Life is life. It's pretty much a prison of our sins- if we didn't sin, we could just ask for death and escape from this overrated world.
So I guess sinners like myself should both, be grateful that we're still alive with potential to rectify those mistakes, and kick ourselves for making them to begin with and prolonging this arrest.
The world is truly overrated. Every "good" thing can go unimaginably wrong, one benefit doesn't come without the sacrifice of another, life will test us with the things we least expect and want it to test us. Then again, what else is life supposed to be? Life is life. It's pretty much a prison of our sins- if we didn't sin, we could just ask for death and escape from this overrated world.
So I guess sinners like myself should both, be grateful that we're still alive with potential to rectify those mistakes, and kick ourselves for making them to begin with and prolonging this arrest.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
The King of Kings
Yesterday, they sent me a king,
One whose praises they all seem to sing,
He told me he could grant me some wealth,
And if I served well, some more for my health,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
I met another who offered me fame,
Said all the world’s tongues could utter my name,
All it would take was my obliging hand,
And he’d turn my lowliness into something so grand,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
A third one arrived a fortnight before,
Met my humble abode with a knock on my door,
He told me he’d make my children my pride,
And in a house of gold, he’d make me reside,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
Like this they kept coming and as always, they went,
And my heart wished not to serve any king the world sent,
And so in this frustration, I sought a way out,
I went on a journey with my luggage of doubt,
Perhaps I was too harsh on the kings that had come?
Should I have listened a little to some?
But now on this journey, it was too late,
And to turn them away, it seemed was my fate.
In the midst of this voyage I still had no goal,
For I knew not where to find the cure for my soul,
So I stopped for a while and stepped onto the ground,
And a scent filled my heart with beauty profound,
And as I walked on the sand to follow this scent,
The weight on my shoulders seemed to relent,
‘Til I reached a sight that was ice to my eyes,
In this heat of the sun under heaven’s red skies.
I saw a gold light where the sun hit the dome,
And a red flag like a sign on the door of a home,
And masses of servants running to their master inside,
Where I thought the royals of this land would reside,
But I looked again and saw no servants around,
Only kings and queens in their dignity, crowned,
So, confused, I asked where the servants might be,
And one man told me that the servant was he,
But another man came and said, “Servant? That’s me,”
Then another and another, and they all said the same,
And soon every royal in that place made that claim.
Finally, a woman told me the truth,
She was the wisest and most modest of youth,
She said that these people were not kings or queens,
Until they had served her son through their means,
She told me that his service turned slaves into kings,
The way a goldsmith turns stones into rings.
She showed me why other kings, I had turned down,
Why each one was simply a slave in a gown-
What king needs his servants and roams the low earth?
The true king’s servants struggle to meet him since birth.
Like lost orphans who seek a father’s embrace,
I’d serve all my life for the peace in that place,
So here I stand, still waiting outside,
And by his principles, I try to abide,
So that maybe one day, we might finally meet,
And this king of kings, I might humbly greet,
And perhaps he might accept me as his,
Maybe he’ll turn my pain into bliss,
For the servants of a king of kings feel no pain,
The cure for their ailments is the love of Hussein (a.s).
One whose praises they all seem to sing,
He told me he could grant me some wealth,
And if I served well, some more for my health,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
I met another who offered me fame,
Said all the world’s tongues could utter my name,
All it would take was my obliging hand,
And he’d turn my lowliness into something so grand,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
A third one arrived a fortnight before,
Met my humble abode with a knock on my door,
He told me he’d make my children my pride,
And in a house of gold, he’d make me reside,
But with this king, I was not content,
So him, like the others, away I sent.
Like this they kept coming and as always, they went,
And my heart wished not to serve any king the world sent,
And so in this frustration, I sought a way out,
I went on a journey with my luggage of doubt,
Perhaps I was too harsh on the kings that had come?
Should I have listened a little to some?
But now on this journey, it was too late,
And to turn them away, it seemed was my fate.
In the midst of this voyage I still had no goal,
For I knew not where to find the cure for my soul,
So I stopped for a while and stepped onto the ground,
And a scent filled my heart with beauty profound,
And as I walked on the sand to follow this scent,
The weight on my shoulders seemed to relent,
‘Til I reached a sight that was ice to my eyes,
In this heat of the sun under heaven’s red skies.
I saw a gold light where the sun hit the dome,
And a red flag like a sign on the door of a home,
And masses of servants running to their master inside,
Where I thought the royals of this land would reside,
But I looked again and saw no servants around,
Only kings and queens in their dignity, crowned,
So, confused, I asked where the servants might be,
And one man told me that the servant was he,
But another man came and said, “Servant? That’s me,”
Then another and another, and they all said the same,
And soon every royal in that place made that claim.
Finally, a woman told me the truth,
She was the wisest and most modest of youth,
She said that these people were not kings or queens,
Until they had served her son through their means,
She told me that his service turned slaves into kings,
The way a goldsmith turns stones into rings.
She showed me why other kings, I had turned down,
Why each one was simply a slave in a gown-
What king needs his servants and roams the low earth?
The true king’s servants struggle to meet him since birth.
Like lost orphans who seek a father’s embrace,
I’d serve all my life for the peace in that place,
So here I stand, still waiting outside,
And by his principles, I try to abide,
So that maybe one day, we might finally meet,
And this king of kings, I might humbly greet,
And perhaps he might accept me as his,
Maybe he’ll turn my pain into bliss,
For the servants of a king of kings feel no pain,
The cure for their ailments is the love of Hussein (a.s).
Sunday, 13 February 2011
Poetry
The last poem I wrote was on the 1st of Muharram, and I wrote it as I watched them change the flag on the dome of Imam Hussein (a.s) from red to black.
I really want to write another poem, but every time I sit down to write, it's pretty much my last poem that I want to write out again, but with more intensity, more emotion, more yearning. It's frustrating only because I feel slightly useless not doing anything else for Ahlulbayt (a.s), but in a way, it's a relief knowing that the "flame is still burning".
Allahumma irzoqni ziyaratel Hussein (a.s)
I really want to write another poem, but every time I sit down to write, it's pretty much my last poem that I want to write out again, but with more intensity, more emotion, more yearning. It's frustrating only because I feel slightly useless not doing anything else for Ahlulbayt (a.s), but in a way, it's a relief knowing that the "flame is still burning".
Allahumma irzoqni ziyaratel Hussein (a.s)
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Arba'een
The topic of the speaker at the Arba'een Majalis that I've been attending is the Sermon of Hammam by Imam Ali (a.s)- the qualities of a pious man, and the Majalis have really opened my eyes. There are over one hundred qualities mentioned in the sermon and each one carries so much depth and meaning that it's scary that we aim to tick all these boxes by the time we die.
And that's another thing. A lot of things have happened recently to make me more aware of death. Seeing other people's problems has made me think that life is truly over-rated and death, for some, could be an escape. I'd like to be among those "some people" for whom death is salvation rather than a dreaded deadline, which means a tonne of preparation and a lot of sorting out. A lot.
And that's another thing. A lot of things have happened recently to make me more aware of death. Seeing other people's problems has made me think that life is truly over-rated and death, for some, could be an escape. I'd like to be among those "some people" for whom death is salvation rather than a dreaded deadline, which means a tonne of preparation and a lot of sorting out. A lot.
Thursday, 13 January 2011
Heartbreaking
A while back, I heard the most heartbreaking Hadith in a lecture. The narration said that after the reappearance of the Imam (a.f) of our time, his first inaugural speech will be at Masjid al Kufa. He will be addressing masses upon masses of people outside the mosque, he will be speaking, but nobody will be able to hear him. Why? Because the people will be sobbing upon seeing his blessed face, in awe of his presence and beauty, in disbelief that their saviour has finally arrived.
I imagined the scene. Cameras everywhere, a beautiful man standing outside a mosque, millions and millions of people gathered together in anticipation, his lips moving but the only audible sound being that of people's wailing and crying. Just wanted to break your hearts too.
I imagined the scene. Cameras everywhere, a beautiful man standing outside a mosque, millions and millions of people gathered together in anticipation, his lips moving but the only audible sound being that of people's wailing and crying. Just wanted to break your hearts too.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Alhamdulillah
One word: Alhamdulillah! A very close friend of mine got back from Iraq, I got into the University that I wanted to, have been to some amazing majalis in the last couple of days, and Sayed Hossein Qazwini is in London for Arba'een. Could I want anything more right now? I think not.
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