Currently I'm packing. I seriously hate this. It always reminds me of how caught up I am with materialism and how much I think I need to survive... comfortably. I wish I was a simpler person that was happy with one outfit and a toothbrush, Alhumdulilah.
That would be my ideal... but with these desi weddings it is truly an impossibility. Instead I am juggling two huge suitcases that are each exceeding the 50 pound limit. Stupid mess, give me an abaya and give me a book and I'm straight! (ok, and maybe a power converter :P) heehehe, I wish my mom would let me pack like that.
Okay anyways, so Eid Mubarak to everyone... I forgot to say that.
As soon as I get there, I know I am going to miss the luxuries of the U.S. and will be stampeded with inconveniences like using those wak toilets and not being able to drink the faucet water. I think I should go eat something... perhaps this is cranky bantering...
I wonder what kind of weirdos I will meet in transit... this should be interesting. I am delightfully dreading the potential scenarios... hmm... perhaps another person picking the lice or white hairs from his arm... hahahaha....
Anyhoo you guys, I picked up a GRE book to study on the way, Alhumdulilah. Also, my gpa is not as lousy as I had led myself to believe, Alhumdulilah. The "salvation" of that resident of the gutter lowly negative number proves that duas do work! :)
Alright I gonna hit up Asr... and finish packing. I am not taking my computer with me... so I don't know when I will get to post next... Shareef will be bringing his laptop at the end of January so inshAllah by then I will get back to this. Perhaps I can hit up some kind of internet cafe, but I have heard too many stories about weirdos there... so I don't know whether I should go and check it out just for that or avoid it all together. InshAllah time will tell how daring I want to be during this visit... but one thing is for sure... I am gonna ride my uncle's motorcycle without crashing into a building this time!!!!!!! inshAllah :)
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Monday, December 25, 2006
Sin of a Cynic
As I sit here today and stare at this luminated lcd screen trying to round up a plentitude of thoughts into some kind of cohesive formation, I cannot help but reflect on the subject of cynicism.
It is often so unpalatable, leaving a stingingly bitter taste for anyone unfortunate enough to hear about ill learned lessons from someone who has gone down a disastrous route. I myself used to abhor a cynic - someone so adamently fused to the disgusting encounters of their past to appreciate their blessed present or prospectful future. Such a person cannot even seem capable of extracting well deserved lessons from their experiences - which neither make the experience itself seem beneficial or destined, increasing their bitter lamentations and subconciously plunging them deeper and deeper into a pit filled with their already ailing disposition.
But today, I want to ask the question of whether or not cynicism is really bad. Perhaps the only fault of a cynic is to impose their disagreeable observations on the light hearted and untarnished soul that is free of their own burden, and may never have to encounter any such disastrous situation unless a nasty old krone decided to enlighten them of such possibilities.
Is it not a possibility that perhaps a cynic does indeed carry some kind of wisdom, in its own demented right. Only through their experience, which is undoubtedly responsible for cultivating a unique individual can we gain certain knowledge. But at the same time... cynicism appears to be one step short of wisdom in its entirety... perhaps a premature wisdom... a fermenting lesson that one is still learning from.. or may learn from for the rest of their lives... a lesson with no concrete conclusion, because each time one is presumably reached it leads to unsavory outcomes which shows the preceding failed attempts to extract true and beneficial knowledge - since it causes one to walk down paths to other embittering expositions.
Is there not some connection between baggage and cynicism? One that has baggage certainly reflects a degree of cynicism, and one that is a cynic is sure to carry a decent amount of baggage. Should it not then be our greatest desire to purge ourselves of both baggage and cynicsm since both seem to be entities seperating us from achieving clean hearts? If we are busy checking in our multitudes of suitcases, how then do we expect to catch our flight?
Perhaps someone can indulge me in expressing how to seperate wisdom, knowledge, and cynicsm? A certain degree of awareness on the realities of our society (unfortunately) should understandably lead to a slight cynicism at the very least. A slight distrust, a sense of guardedness, or mental reclusiveness.
Ah, the trials of this life. We come in so pure and innocent. So full of fitra... and are conditioned to diverge from its very stamp on our souls. Surely the test is all in fighting the ordeals of bitter encounters, in dealing with society as best we can, and yet maintaining a strong understanding of the purpose of our existence.
Sometimes I don't know whether to consider over sensitivity a curse or a blessing. While it drives a person to be aware of things a more careless person would be blind to, it opens up the possibility for even more enduring pains.
It is often so unpalatable, leaving a stingingly bitter taste for anyone unfortunate enough to hear about ill learned lessons from someone who has gone down a disastrous route. I myself used to abhor a cynic - someone so adamently fused to the disgusting encounters of their past to appreciate their blessed present or prospectful future. Such a person cannot even seem capable of extracting well deserved lessons from their experiences - which neither make the experience itself seem beneficial or destined, increasing their bitter lamentations and subconciously plunging them deeper and deeper into a pit filled with their already ailing disposition.
But today, I want to ask the question of whether or not cynicism is really bad. Perhaps the only fault of a cynic is to impose their disagreeable observations on the light hearted and untarnished soul that is free of their own burden, and may never have to encounter any such disastrous situation unless a nasty old krone decided to enlighten them of such possibilities.
Is it not a possibility that perhaps a cynic does indeed carry some kind of wisdom, in its own demented right. Only through their experience, which is undoubtedly responsible for cultivating a unique individual can we gain certain knowledge. But at the same time... cynicism appears to be one step short of wisdom in its entirety... perhaps a premature wisdom... a fermenting lesson that one is still learning from.. or may learn from for the rest of their lives... a lesson with no concrete conclusion, because each time one is presumably reached it leads to unsavory outcomes which shows the preceding failed attempts to extract true and beneficial knowledge - since it causes one to walk down paths to other embittering expositions.
Is there not some connection between baggage and cynicism? One that has baggage certainly reflects a degree of cynicism, and one that is a cynic is sure to carry a decent amount of baggage. Should it not then be our greatest desire to purge ourselves of both baggage and cynicsm since both seem to be entities seperating us from achieving clean hearts? If we are busy checking in our multitudes of suitcases, how then do we expect to catch our flight?
Perhaps someone can indulge me in expressing how to seperate wisdom, knowledge, and cynicsm? A certain degree of awareness on the realities of our society (unfortunately) should understandably lead to a slight cynicism at the very least. A slight distrust, a sense of guardedness, or mental reclusiveness.
Ah, the trials of this life. We come in so pure and innocent. So full of fitra... and are conditioned to diverge from its very stamp on our souls. Surely the test is all in fighting the ordeals of bitter encounters, in dealing with society as best we can, and yet maintaining a strong understanding of the purpose of our existence.
Sometimes I don't know whether to consider over sensitivity a curse or a blessing. While it drives a person to be aware of things a more careless person would be blind to, it opens up the possibility for even more enduring pains.
Friday, December 22, 2006
How Long Must One Feel So...
The previous post dealt not with flowery fiction, but with words found in books of wisdom and knowledge. Books of journeys, direction and growth..
~
Let's say we fell for that flowery fiction, we deluded ourselves. At times we were foolish for falling for the words, other times, we felt there was enough trust to take the words as truth. Now what?
I have been thinking about how much of a right we have to feel wronged and hurt.. and I wrote this earlier this morning, very simple language. It's rather choppy and straight forward. and I'm sorry if I'm posting too much. Just tell me and I'll cut down hehe..
~
We feel hurt for prolonged periods of time when we center our emotions around THIS world. We convince ourselves that we have been scarred, betrayed, wronged - for life - and this is where the damage to one's heart can become dangerous.
It is completely acceptable, even necessary, to feel unsettled and confused when one is confronted with situations that truly test one's capacity for inner and outer composure.
The issue is not how to feel, but how long one ought to nurture the initial negative, depressed and weighty feelings...
This is not a "black & white" area with strict boundaries of "right & wrong" - granted, different people have varying emotional capacities and will react differently - but this is more a matter of being conscious of the well-being of one's emotions and the effect they have on one's spirit, or soul..
Don't allow your initial negativity to grow into a subtle bitterness that coats, or even overpowers, your heart. It's really not worth it.
And sometimes, without realizing it, this ingrained and prolonged sense of hurt echoes subconsciously of "self-pity"- Woe is me! How could this happen to ME! O Inflated Ego, Eternally by My side.. (our ego seems to be our utmost loyal companion ;)
What I wonder and fear most about, however, is how to ensure one has grown and not digressed from any given unpleasant situation. Again, no defined scale can measure this internal growth, or lack thereof, and growth itself is admittedly relative. Yet we can follow the yardsticks of growth laid by the Absolute.
Perhaps the mystery of one's actual growth is something we are better off not visibly knowing...
Perhaps growth corresponds to a higher level of peace within?
Peace, love & wisdom. All God-given...
Ultimately, any given situation is thus bought back to the relationship between God & human, Creator and created - an opportunity to reaffirm and reignite the primordial covenant into one's very being.
~
~
Let's say we fell for that flowery fiction, we deluded ourselves. At times we were foolish for falling for the words, other times, we felt there was enough trust to take the words as truth. Now what?
I have been thinking about how much of a right we have to feel wronged and hurt.. and I wrote this earlier this morning, very simple language. It's rather choppy and straight forward. and I'm sorry if I'm posting too much. Just tell me and I'll cut down hehe..
~
We feel hurt for prolonged periods of time when we center our emotions around THIS world. We convince ourselves that we have been scarred, betrayed, wronged - for life - and this is where the damage to one's heart can become dangerous.
It is completely acceptable, even necessary, to feel unsettled and confused when one is confronted with situations that truly test one's capacity for inner and outer composure.
The issue is not how to feel, but how long one ought to nurture the initial negative, depressed and weighty feelings...
This is not a "black & white" area with strict boundaries of "right & wrong" - granted, different people have varying emotional capacities and will react differently - but this is more a matter of being conscious of the well-being of one's emotions and the effect they have on one's spirit, or soul..
Don't allow your initial negativity to grow into a subtle bitterness that coats, or even overpowers, your heart. It's really not worth it.
And sometimes, without realizing it, this ingrained and prolonged sense of hurt echoes subconsciously of "self-pity"- Woe is me! How could this happen to ME! O Inflated Ego, Eternally by My side.. (our ego seems to be our utmost loyal companion ;)
What I wonder and fear most about, however, is how to ensure one has grown and not digressed from any given unpleasant situation. Again, no defined scale can measure this internal growth, or lack thereof, and growth itself is admittedly relative. Yet we can follow the yardsticks of growth laid by the Absolute.
Perhaps the mystery of one's actual growth is something we are better off not visibly knowing...
Perhaps growth corresponds to a higher level of peace within?
Peace, love & wisdom. All God-given...
Ultimately, any given situation is thus bought back to the relationship between God & human, Creator and created - an opportunity to reaffirm and reignite the primordial covenant into one's very being.
~
Words
This isnt the response I was referring to but it's something I wrote back in April - somewhat more personal - it was more relevant then, but I think it'll always apply to me any maybe you all might be able to relate?
April 5, 2006
Bismillah arRahman arRahim
There comes a point where reading the words of another and internalizing their borrowed meaning ceases to serve any substantial purpose. It starts out as a pebble, a stone, a boulder and finally, before you know it, your whole heart's gone hard and you're left lifeless. What happens is that at some point along the way, you stop making the connection between words and the meaning behind them.
For every word speaks higher than itself. It conveys a twofold meaning the resonates within us and allows us to react to it by virtue of the substance of the words and the feelings that it arouses within us.
Somewhere along the way though, even if certain words are cherished, others loudly lauded, their impact is almost flushed down a ruthless toilet. Why the crude terminology?
Well really, when one isn't even moved by the most beautiful forms of communcation and language impregnated with symbols that ought to stir us to go out and do something or be someone, then clearly something is missing. And again, as my mom says, "you can't clap with one hand" -- its a two-way affect.
Of course you can't say that "both the words and I am equally at fault". The words don't have a soul of their own until we recognize the soul behind their transient echoes and connect it with our own hidden, rusty sense of selfhood.
But that must mean that somehow the sense of selfhood that was on a path of conscious development -- unhindered by the pebbles and boulders that stubbornly glared as you just as confidently strolled by -- that selfhood went off track.
Unlike your past, when there wasn't even a track, there was merely cloud upon thick cloud that refused to hold you up. Since then, a track has at least been erected and maintained. Now, it is either changing directions or it has been tampered with. Or, its broken.
Mend yourself.
~
not written in the spirit of negativity at all, it was more of a "WAKE UP" kind of random thought process...
April 5, 2006
Bismillah arRahman arRahim
There comes a point where reading the words of another and internalizing their borrowed meaning ceases to serve any substantial purpose. It starts out as a pebble, a stone, a boulder and finally, before you know it, your whole heart's gone hard and you're left lifeless. What happens is that at some point along the way, you stop making the connection between words and the meaning behind them.
For every word speaks higher than itself. It conveys a twofold meaning the resonates within us and allows us to react to it by virtue of the substance of the words and the feelings that it arouses within us.
Somewhere along the way though, even if certain words are cherished, others loudly lauded, their impact is almost flushed down a ruthless toilet. Why the crude terminology?
Well really, when one isn't even moved by the most beautiful forms of communcation and language impregnated with symbols that ought to stir us to go out and do something or be someone, then clearly something is missing. And again, as my mom says, "you can't clap with one hand" -- its a two-way affect.
Of course you can't say that "both the words and I am equally at fault". The words don't have a soul of their own until we recognize the soul behind their transient echoes and connect it with our own hidden, rusty sense of selfhood.
But that must mean that somehow the sense of selfhood that was on a path of conscious development -- unhindered by the pebbles and boulders that stubbornly glared as you just as confidently strolled by -- that selfhood went off track.
Unlike your past, when there wasn't even a track, there was merely cloud upon thick cloud that refused to hold you up. Since then, a track has at least been erected and maintained. Now, it is either changing directions or it has been tampered with. Or, its broken.
Mend yourself.
~
not written in the spirit of negativity at all, it was more of a "WAKE UP" kind of random thought process...
Captives of Flowery Fiction?
Yes, there are great perils in falling for flowery words, but there may also be, at least for a while, great repose in basking under the rays of love, self-esteem and satisfaction that they hurl onto our paths. Rather clumsily they tempt the hands of fate for a chance in our lives, and perhaps intrusively invade our thoughts, hearts and very existence. Playfully and unheedingly we welcome the words and the souls they effuse from, casting upon them our desires and dreams. The result however is a mere fantasy, a shadow of a reality that cannot be reduced to mere words of passion or flattery.
Instead of resting under the influence of captivating flattery, or an intriguing mystery, perhaps it is better to be agitated by a cruel betrayal or an untimely desertion. Although our hearts may feel otherwise, a devastating storm can be more beneficial than a soothing rain. Continuous pain may be our path to self-knowledge, and I can’t help but quote Khalil Gibran:
“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding”
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain”
With tears, longing and a broken heart we start to pray. With the fear, the inadequacy and the hesitation that we inherit from disillusionment and pain, with a heart that literally hurts, a soul disoriented and a mind distracted and in constant escape. Yet amidst the chaos and deluge of emotions, there are moments of clarity, where our minds are once again able to see, re-evaluate, reorient, re-envision, and reconstruct. At least hopefully there are these moments of clarity ;). And no matter how burdensome this task may seem, there are fires and dreams within us that must be realized, through a dedication that can only be fueled by souls in overpowering submission.
The reality, as perplexing and borderline blasphemous as this may sound, is a mixture of divine and human, and until we understand the human through the divine and experience the divine through the human, we will remain captives of flowery fiction.
Instead of resting under the influence of captivating flattery, or an intriguing mystery, perhaps it is better to be agitated by a cruel betrayal or an untimely desertion. Although our hearts may feel otherwise, a devastating storm can be more beneficial than a soothing rain. Continuous pain may be our path to self-knowledge, and I can’t help but quote Khalil Gibran:
“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding”
“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain”
With tears, longing and a broken heart we start to pray. With the fear, the inadequacy and the hesitation that we inherit from disillusionment and pain, with a heart that literally hurts, a soul disoriented and a mind distracted and in constant escape. Yet amidst the chaos and deluge of emotions, there are moments of clarity, where our minds are once again able to see, re-evaluate, reorient, re-envision, and reconstruct. At least hopefully there are these moments of clarity ;). And no matter how burdensome this task may seem, there are fires and dreams within us that must be realized, through a dedication that can only be fueled by souls in overpowering submission.
The reality, as perplexing and borderline blasphemous as this may sound, is a mixture of divine and human, and until we understand the human through the divine and experience the divine through the human, we will remain captives of flowery fiction.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Flowery Fiction
There seem to be great perils in falling for flowery words and enchanting whispers. Those that speak them truly seem incapable of possessing their qualities and characteristics. Perhaps they are only good for mobilizing a few into action, inspiring a modest bunch - that are indeed capable of manifesting the beautiful fiction the painters have so innocently and imaginatively spread out before us. I wonder if they knew about the short comings of their own creation - while they have shown us a beauty, they have deprived us of its taste - if this would inspire some guilt or regret on their part for even allowing us to imagine it exists.
But... one can only recognize what is in their own capacity. Maybe they are speaking these flowery words to us, because they see it within those they are speaking to. Maybe instead of believing them and allowing ourselves to think the speaker has embodied this magnificent creation that has only sprung up as a result of their expansive and beautiful imagination.. we should realize that they have a gift for speaking about what they see. They have infact tasted this non-ficticious awe in us.
HAHAA, maybe sadly there are one of two people to be commonly found in this world. Those that speak beautifully, and those that act beautifully. Which do you prefer?
I pray we are able to find those that are a refreshing equilibrium of both. I pray we can manifest such equilibrium within ourselves, inshAllah.
But... one can only recognize what is in their own capacity. Maybe they are speaking these flowery words to us, because they see it within those they are speaking to. Maybe instead of believing them and allowing ourselves to think the speaker has embodied this magnificent creation that has only sprung up as a result of their expansive and beautiful imagination.. we should realize that they have a gift for speaking about what they see. They have infact tasted this non-ficticious awe in us.
HAHAA, maybe sadly there are one of two people to be commonly found in this world. Those that speak beautifully, and those that act beautifully. Which do you prefer?
I pray we are able to find those that are a refreshing equilibrium of both. I pray we can manifest such equilibrium within ourselves, inshAllah.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Final(s) Fantasy
May you infectously fester on the brink of a miserable death.
May your insipid carcass be then shouveled into the pits of an aggressively engulfing grave.
May your tortures be excrutiating and draining - clenching and ripping - brutal and ruthless.
May you suffer like you made us to.
RIP Finals@#!@#!
(oh how I wish you were a person so I could make you my punching bag... I would dig open the grave and munch on your lousy liver.... ah, pleasant thought!)
Okay, now that that mess is over... on to more important things ;)
May your insipid carcass be then shouveled into the pits of an aggressively engulfing grave.
May your tortures be excrutiating and draining - clenching and ripping - brutal and ruthless.
May you suffer like you made us to.
RIP Finals@#!@#!
(oh how I wish you were a person so I could make you my punching bag... I would dig open the grave and munch on your lousy liver.... ah, pleasant thought!)
Okay, now that that mess is over... on to more important things ;)
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
now is the time...
i think its time to cash in on those mint witchblade comics, marvel trading cards, and starwars collectibles...
yup, gonna bid for a nice 4x4 mansion on ebay and drop out of school. yiiiiipppeee!
oh snap, almost forgot about boxed 98 nagano olympics figure skating barbie :)
hmm... perhaps ill have enough for an attractive russian mail order bride as well... hmm... indeed
yup, gonna bid for a nice 4x4 mansion on ebay and drop out of school. yiiiiipppeee!
oh snap, almost forgot about boxed 98 nagano olympics figure skating barbie :)
hmm... perhaps ill have enough for an attractive russian mail order bride as well... hmm... indeed
Yello its me wait who am I?
HI
Its 5:35
I got an exam tomorrow
I dont know nothin but it's all good
sorry the title is more exciting than this post.
Its 5:35
I got an exam tomorrow
I dont know nothin but it's all good
sorry the title is more exciting than this post.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Excuse me sir, directions please!
can you tell me how to get...
how to get to deobandi street!!!?
(delirium in 5... 4... 3... 2...)
how to get to deobandi street!!!?
(delirium in 5... 4... 3... 2...)
Hibernation
holy guacamole, this 40 page crapaper is rocking the mess out of me... someone needs to tell this professor that if i compiled everything in my mind that was of worth i would barely get 2 pages... maybe 2.110093 if i was lucky. anyhow, i also have a final tommorow in additon to this 40 page zangief being due.
i should just go hide in a cave and chill with some bears, im sure they would be delighted to have me over. ack, sorry... just zoned out... i had that vision again... of me being some rugged warrior bedouin princess in the middle of the hijaz riding on a camel with the reins of my humped friend in one hand, a gyro in the other, and some cool beaded sandals on my feet...
oh yea, thats the sweet life.
in conclusion, i wanna fast forward past saturday. :o)
i should just go hide in a cave and chill with some bears, im sure they would be delighted to have me over. ack, sorry... just zoned out... i had that vision again... of me being some rugged warrior bedouin princess in the middle of the hijaz riding on a camel with the reins of my humped friend in one hand, a gyro in the other, and some cool beaded sandals on my feet...
oh yea, thats the sweet life.
in conclusion, i wanna fast forward past saturday. :o)
Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Clash of Civilizations
I almost forgot... Today I ran into our dear friend, Stephen Parsley outside of my Comparative Politics of India and Pakistan class. I, of course never having formally met him only recognized him from his facebook pictures. It took me awhile to realize it was him, since a lot of the people on this campus have a homogenized uniform appearance (don't act like you don't know).
Nonetheless, I did realize that I recognized him from somewhere and started smiling like I normally do in such circumstances. Instead he immediately looked in the opposite direction and walked away quickly. In that moment, I realized who it really was. I kind of stood there in shock... but what did I really expect in such a situation?
It seems to me that he has created a barrier and separation in American society, not me and my sense of hijab. I have made every effort to extend my friendship to him - an invitation to lunch, facebook messages, a smile... nothing has worked.
Please sir, let me relieve you of your skewed perceptions and stereotypes... let me liberate you from the brainwashing jail that is holding your feeble mind captive. I could show you what it really is to be an American, if only you would stop creating a barrier in society and marginalizing me...
sheesh "Americans" these days...
Nonetheless, I did realize that I recognized him from somewhere and started smiling like I normally do in such circumstances. Instead he immediately looked in the opposite direction and walked away quickly. In that moment, I realized who it really was. I kind of stood there in shock... but what did I really expect in such a situation?
It seems to me that he has created a barrier and separation in American society, not me and my sense of hijab. I have made every effort to extend my friendship to him - an invitation to lunch, facebook messages, a smile... nothing has worked.
Please sir, let me relieve you of your skewed perceptions and stereotypes... let me liberate you from the brainwashing jail that is holding your feeble mind captive. I could show you what it really is to be an American, if only you would stop creating a barrier in society and marginalizing me...
sheesh "Americans" these days...
Weirdo?
I often run into weirdos on this strange campus. There must be some kind of glow coming from me that only those crazy ufos can see... so they all come - like mosquitoes to a light... only I don't roast them.
However, they do sometimes make me think about neat things.
The other day, I was sitting next to someone in the library (stay away from Clemons... go to Thornton, that's where you find all the normal ones :P) who proceeded to show me his private notebook. One page was titled "Demonic Voices". Interesting... what a character... I stopped myself from looking further.. and turned back to my computer screen. Nope, the conversation was still not over, but Alhumdulilah.
Anyways, I will spare you insignificant dribble, cause boyyy there was much of it. But, he did touch upon a very interesting point. He started talking about his closest friend, who happened to be a very mean and controlling guy. He went onto tell me that this friend - his bestfriend was the most critical of his every action and made him feel responsible for everything that went wrong in the friendship and even in their simple interactions. He was condemning of his drinking problems, his drug addictions, his sins, his crimes, his faults, his personality, his failures. Basically, my understanding was that this guy made him feel like crap and continuously victimized himself in the friendship, totally heedless of his own malicious and imperfect nature.
Why then was he bestfriends with such a person? Maybe the ufo wasn't that weird afterall... he told me that this guy, although causing him the most pain and harm, because he blatantly and aggressively pointed out his flaws, was a tool or means of him working on himself. Because of the friend's critical nature, our dear ufo was extracting an understanding of himself which was detached from his own subjective self image. Through what appeared to be an unhealthy friendship... he was becoming a healthy person. Wow, I honestly thought I was the only one who had that kind of understanding of societal interactions.
Okay, so maybe the weirdos coming to me is not one sided... maybe I go to the weirdos... the hard to deal with people... because I too am looking for a means to a higher state of development through testing my own levels of tolerance and acceptance... I want to be in a constant state of societal struggle... meeting higher challenges... always working on myself, inshAllah.
One time a man came and asked Imam Shafi'i (rahimullah) how he had become such a knowledgeable man. Imam Shafi'i responded :"I took everyone I met as a teacher: if I met someone who was better than me, I learned from him, and if I met someone who was worse than me, I learned what not to do."
Weird? Good!
Finicky? Awesome!
Mean? Better!
Hateful? Wowzers!
Hypocritical? Just Right!
However, they do sometimes make me think about neat things.
The other day, I was sitting next to someone in the library (stay away from Clemons... go to Thornton, that's where you find all the normal ones :P) who proceeded to show me his private notebook. One page was titled "Demonic Voices". Interesting... what a character... I stopped myself from looking further.. and turned back to my computer screen. Nope, the conversation was still not over, but Alhumdulilah.
Anyways, I will spare you insignificant dribble, cause boyyy there was much of it. But, he did touch upon a very interesting point. He started talking about his closest friend, who happened to be a very mean and controlling guy. He went onto tell me that this friend - his bestfriend was the most critical of his every action and made him feel responsible for everything that went wrong in the friendship and even in their simple interactions. He was condemning of his drinking problems, his drug addictions, his sins, his crimes, his faults, his personality, his failures. Basically, my understanding was that this guy made him feel like crap and continuously victimized himself in the friendship, totally heedless of his own malicious and imperfect nature.
Why then was he bestfriends with such a person? Maybe the ufo wasn't that weird afterall... he told me that this guy, although causing him the most pain and harm, because he blatantly and aggressively pointed out his flaws, was a tool or means of him working on himself. Because of the friend's critical nature, our dear ufo was extracting an understanding of himself which was detached from his own subjective self image. Through what appeared to be an unhealthy friendship... he was becoming a healthy person. Wow, I honestly thought I was the only one who had that kind of understanding of societal interactions.
Okay, so maybe the weirdos coming to me is not one sided... maybe I go to the weirdos... the hard to deal with people... because I too am looking for a means to a higher state of development through testing my own levels of tolerance and acceptance... I want to be in a constant state of societal struggle... meeting higher challenges... always working on myself, inshAllah.
One time a man came and asked Imam Shafi'i (rahimullah) how he had become such a knowledgeable man. Imam Shafi'i responded :"I took everyone I met as a teacher: if I met someone who was better than me, I learned from him, and if I met someone who was worse than me, I learned what not to do."
Weird? Good!
Finicky? Awesome!
Mean? Better!
Hateful? Wowzers!
Hypocritical? Just Right!
Monday, December 4, 2006
Pain or Progression, that is the Question
So it is a pretty Islamic concept that the one closest to Allah (swt) is the one that is tested the most. This could be for a multitude of reasons... but I think it is simply because (forgive the cliche) - what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I came across something pretty funny in my IR readings regarding Kaiser Wilhelms regime in Germany during the resistance against socialist movements...
"There is in Germany a body of opinion... popularized by many of the most prominent literary figures of the last century, to the effect that disease is more than something to be done away with; that it is a fascinating phenomenon and... that it may be one of the distinguishing marks of genius... It can be recalled that Hans Castrop's self-realization on the Magic Mountain comes through contact with disease and death; Goethe's Wilhelm Meister's first awakening comes after a hemorrhage; Novalis asks 'Could disease not be a means of higher synthesis?' and reaches a peculiar conclusion: 'The more agonizing the pain, the higher the pleasure that lurks within it... Illness, along with death, is to be numbered among human pleasures."
There are many things that can be taken out of here... firstly that illness is somehow directly responsible for producing a different kind of human being or allowing some kind of personal growth or progression even in the midst of its supposed deterioration. Perhaps as the body is decomposed a higher element (soul?) is elevated. Very sufi concept... interesting. Secondly, I read somewhere that if exposure to death does not change a person than nothing will... so somehow this awareness of death is the catalyst for allowing a new trait to manifest or allowing growth and development in a human being. This is consistent with the first train of thought. Thirdly, the reference to pain being a pleasure. Another very sufi concept because a mumin is seen to welcome any form of pain as it is seen as a means to reaching a higher state. So, we see a touch of spirituatlity in everything around us, Alhumdulilah.
I always think its funny that these writers think they have touched upon some profound realization, but its something that Islam has always acknowledged. I wonder what is next... will they use intellect and reasoning to figure out conception? Hahahaha, no way... impossible.
"There is in Germany a body of opinion... popularized by many of the most prominent literary figures of the last century, to the effect that disease is more than something to be done away with; that it is a fascinating phenomenon and... that it may be one of the distinguishing marks of genius... It can be recalled that Hans Castrop's self-realization on the Magic Mountain comes through contact with disease and death; Goethe's Wilhelm Meister's first awakening comes after a hemorrhage; Novalis asks 'Could disease not be a means of higher synthesis?' and reaches a peculiar conclusion: 'The more agonizing the pain, the higher the pleasure that lurks within it... Illness, along with death, is to be numbered among human pleasures."
There are many things that can be taken out of here... firstly that illness is somehow directly responsible for producing a different kind of human being or allowing some kind of personal growth or progression even in the midst of its supposed deterioration. Perhaps as the body is decomposed a higher element (soul?) is elevated. Very sufi concept... interesting. Secondly, I read somewhere that if exposure to death does not change a person than nothing will... so somehow this awareness of death is the catalyst for allowing a new trait to manifest or allowing growth and development in a human being. This is consistent with the first train of thought. Thirdly, the reference to pain being a pleasure. Another very sufi concept because a mumin is seen to welcome any form of pain as it is seen as a means to reaching a higher state. So, we see a touch of spirituatlity in everything around us, Alhumdulilah.
I always think its funny that these writers think they have touched upon some profound realization, but its something that Islam has always acknowledged. I wonder what is next... will they use intellect and reasoning to figure out conception? Hahahaha, no way... impossible.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Van Gogh
Late Sunday evening December 23, 1888, Vincent Van Gogh, then 35 years old, cut off the lower half of his left ear and took it to a brothel, where he asked for a prostitute named Rachel and handed the ear to her, asking her to "keep this object carefully."
Ohhh! My favorite interpretations of this:
Van Gogh was influenced by bullfights he had seen in Aries. In such events the matador is given the ear of the bull as an award, displays his prize to the crowd, and then gives it to the lady of his choice. The proponent of this interpretation, J. Oliver (in Lubin, 1972) says: "I am absolutely convinced that Van Gogh was deeply impressed by this practice... Van Gogh cut off his ear, his own ear, as if he were at the same time the vanquished bull and the victorious matador. A confusion in the mind of one person between the vanquished and the vanquisher" (p. 158). Then, like the matador, Van Gogh presented the ear to a lady of his choice.
Van Gogh had a great sympathy for prostitutes and identified with their status as social outcasts. One suggestion is that this self mutilation was a reflection of this identification. "In June, just a few months before butchering his ear, he had written that 'the whore is like meat in a butcher shop'" when he treated his own body as 'meat in a butcher's shop,' he reversed their roles, identified himself with the whore, and showed his sympathy for her." (Lubin, 1972, p. 169).
Why Did Van Gogh Cut Off His Ear?
The Problem of Alternative Explanations in Psychobiography
William McKinley Runyan
University of California, Berkeley
Living like a true artist... sickeningly beautiful.
Ohhh! My favorite interpretations of this:
Van Gogh was influenced by bullfights he had seen in Aries. In such events the matador is given the ear of the bull as an award, displays his prize to the crowd, and then gives it to the lady of his choice. The proponent of this interpretation, J. Oliver (in Lubin, 1972) says: "I am absolutely convinced that Van Gogh was deeply impressed by this practice... Van Gogh cut off his ear, his own ear, as if he were at the same time the vanquished bull and the victorious matador. A confusion in the mind of one person between the vanquished and the vanquisher" (p. 158). Then, like the matador, Van Gogh presented the ear to a lady of his choice.
Van Gogh had a great sympathy for prostitutes and identified with their status as social outcasts. One suggestion is that this self mutilation was a reflection of this identification. "In June, just a few months before butchering his ear, he had written that 'the whore is like meat in a butcher shop'" when he treated his own body as 'meat in a butcher's shop,' he reversed their roles, identified himself with the whore, and showed his sympathy for her." (Lubin, 1972, p. 169).
Why Did Van Gogh Cut Off His Ear?
The Problem of Alternative Explanations in Psychobiography
William McKinley Runyan
University of California, Berkeley
Living like a true artist... sickeningly beautiful.
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