MAQAM, the place where Abraham stood

Dear All

I attended the Johannesburg dinner event that hosted Asmaa Islam, daughter of Yusuf Islam (Cat Stevens)and hope to share the website with anyone who's interested in reading more about the holistic Maqam centre that the Yusuf Islam Foundation has developed.
Not only do I think this a course worth celebrating and supporting, but that the intention behind it is worth noting for our local landscape; that integration of traditions is important in order to foster learning between the different religions in SA.

Check out:

http://themaqam.com

'The MAQAM will be an exhibition, arts and well-being space, aimed at drawing a balance between the mind, body and spirit. It will serve as a venue where people, regardless of faith or background, can come together to learn about themselves and each other and increase their understanding and enjoyment of Islam’s spiritual, artistic and material contributions.'

Asmaa Islam speaks in Pretoria on Tuesday, 24th, Durban on the 25th and Cape Town on the 27th.
Media Enquiries ( for more information or to arrange to speak with Asmaa) may be directed to Mr Edris Khamissa on 082 825 1991

Best,
Shafinaaz

The Banquet

For some people
love is delivered
fresh from the oven,
aromatic as a prayer,
to be consumed only
after a ritualized
washing of hands.
Others meet God five
times a day:
each time they are hungry
God manifests on a plate
to fill them up.
This banquet is beyond religion,
more personal than breath,
universal.
The spent soul is replenished
through the echoing chamber
of an empty, grateful body,
each of its cells saying
repeatedly
thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.


Poem "The Banquet" from 'The Everyday Wife' (2010) by Phillippa Yaa de Villiers.

Happy 60th Birthday, Dad!

It's my dad's 60th birthday.

There was a time when I thought that 60 was the furthest thing.
Life has a way of affording us a change in perspective. I now fraternize with people in the age category 70 - 90. People of sound mental capacity. People who once trained as military cadres, spent time in the damp wasteland of prisons and roamed the globe in exile from the place they called home, for daring to stand up to the apartheid regime.

All this, and the general notion of relativity, make my dad turning 60 seem not really as age-relevant as a celebration of milestones, once again. Sixty is no doubt a defining and momentous occasion. It is also a reason to look back and reflect, something that I am certain he does a lot of on his own; often sharing those musings with our often impressionable ears.
But it is also a time for me to reflect on the journey that both our relationship as father and daughter, and our friendship as two not dissimilar beings has taken.

I've written and reflected on this before; a post called Driving Dad Crazy is among my favourite.
I've also had some opportunities for example, to publicly, albeit spontaneously, honour him when he walked in on a session at the Limpopo Legislature, where I directed the programme for the YCAwards and I happened to be speaking about the role of educators and parents in a child's development. My parents have played a significant and indelible role in my development, in the dynamic of who I am. And so there he was, sitting at the top of the indoor arena, smiling, suited in his classic well-groomed way. Smiling, that warm, encouraging smile. I have basked in this paternal glow of pride and love that is cast over me on every other day.

We're different and yet the same; knowing each other especially because of that sameness in the balance. It's true that fathers are the ordinary seeming heroes in our lives; at first purely because they're our fathers, and later precisely because of being only human, and real to us in every way.

I owe many stages of development to him who is my one and only Dad.
Happy 60th to this 'little girls' forever hero.

With a heart filled with love and appreciation,
Shafinaaz Sikander Hassim

Different, and the same...

Silence is barely empty when you punctuate it with so many things that can mean more than all those thousand worded delusions that I have been chasing all my life.

It is, full. And it is empty.

I think I have all the answers to that one question.

I think I know.

I know that days will still run as an open tap; that years will flow as running water from therein. Years flow from days. That's what I have come to know.

I know that words will get stuck like that log in that dream, causing dams to form of muck and grime and sand and silt.

I also know that I will change. And I will remain the same.

And the running thread will always be that place of Silence on the
piece of green mat; my earth. My knees stuck there; different, and yet, the same.

I know that certainty will falter, and be sturdy in its affirmations;
that it will give birth to new confidence,
and bludgeon some assurance to an unnatural death.

And after all is said and done,
I know,
that I will be
as I have been;
And you will be
as you have been.

Different. And then, too, the very same.

Silence

Silence
you are the tapping of these tips on keys,
making sound, soundless.

Empty yet yielding
something;
soundless,
but real.

Silence you are
intimacy,
scribbles
and thoughts made whole,
but not heard.

Silence,
you are
a tightrope
between
him, and me

and a lifeline
between Him, and me.

Silence,
you are a river
that flows
between humanity
and Being.

Silence!
You are larger
than
Life.

raw realness

We work our way through a range of insane definitions of what love is, what it should be, and how it should present itself in our lives. Then we spend many short lifetimes debating and insisting that it be done quite that way. Done. As in produced, manufactured, packaged, sealed and delivered to our doorstep. Quite that way that we always envisaged. It isn't to be, of course. Life has other plans.

Sometimes it comes to us, not quite looking like love. It comes in a tomato crate with creaking boards that bear splinters as evidence of the raw material quality with which the crates were made. Raw realness. Bearing also the traits of human potential. Not glamorous at first sight, but holding that ability to reach heights never before felt or experienced. Ingratiatingly, for the child soul stubborn to wait out the process of discovery, it might seem like an endless appeal for who-knows-what. But for the less compulsive, the more trusting, and the calmed-to-knowing types, this is precisely what they have been waiting for.

So, how to bridge this gap then?

Simply this. Love is rain and fire and air and solid ground. Love is all this and more and less and something in-between. But it is Love only when it has been stretched to its limits and shown to reveal an energy beyond your wildest expectations. When its all clear as to why. And the why no longer matters. When its all certain as to the how. And the how needn't make sense because its so far away from the beginning. The urgency for gratification is a cloak of heaviness that needs to be discarded if the love-seeking soul is to move unburdened, with lightness of being, into a field of discovering the authenticity of surrendering to all that is to be.

And the analysts mind needs to be shut down. Just about now. And Silence needs to tell its own story. And when the noise has seeped out, maybe then, Love might thrive.

Revelatory moments

Ive not been up to writing much these few days or weeks, and yet there is so much happening at the moment that I would actually like to share as a way of appreciating, and even celebrating these. So, what's been happening? Not all gratingly physical things as such; more a variety of all things revelatory. Of course, the advent of my new book, its sales and the reception it has received in five weeks since it came off the press is celebratory... Memoirs For Kimya is now available in hardcover; a beautiful imprint that fills me with joy; but there's more.

Life's telling me things these days. Revealing all the answers to all the questions that I have collected like an avid sea-shell collector. Years of putting them to the ear to hear nothing; and now the whispers are more than telling. Revelations are in more than words and sounds: they are accompanied by tastes and colours, vivid images that make for quite a gallery of viewing.

There is no time span when gratitude fills your being. I feel this now. Past and present merge into one. The future feels like an unopened gift, gleaming just within reach of eager fingers. Everything is precisely as it should be. There's really no rush. I am no longer the kitten that chases it's tail. I'm the Cheshire cat with cream on her ever-smiling lips.

Absolutely every human being should feel this, just once.
It's the best of both worlds. It really is.

And of course, everything makes total sense. Revelation is momentary and transcendent at the same time. Kind of like spraying rose water into a space and stepping into it to be embraced by it, to breathe it in and then be soaked in it all at once.

Indeed, His favours are undeniable.
:)

Charm

"Your charm lured me
to the edge of madness.
I lost my composure.
Humbled, I was sent away.
Then, You touched my heart,
transformed and shaped me
into any form You fancied."

RUMI

Little Notes from Arabia

31 Aug:
Sometimes, dua, prayer, supplication, moves through us, if not from us. I learnt that today, while standing in front of the Holy Kaaba. I remembered the name of a woman that I have not met. Ever. But I know that she ails. And that almost intangible ailment filters into the lives of her loved ones. Her name came to my lips in full form, surprising me.
I also discovered that empty spaces, mundane ones, are filled easily by the wholeness of humanity. I realised that I am here to experience the notion of a crowded oneness that I write about, ramble about, and even try to fashion into words.
The concept of tawheed is neatly embodied in being one with the crowd. Circling the Kaaba for the last time, amid midday heat that defies logic in its sentient calmness, coolness. Having sought newness, this is it: both Content, Complete.

1 Sept:
The thought crosses my mind that its Spring Day back home in SA. And we're roasting peanuts in the Arabian Sun. The glow is unmistakeably tinged with the radiance of the moment's entirety; of being here, and just being.

3 Sept:
There is something about Madinah that unties that last knot. The last tether is loosened here; and all flows freely. I am easily moved to tears, being the unapologetic sentimentalist that I am, but being here removes that final frontier of abandon. Grace is felt here. Mercy adorns. Forgiveness flows. Love does, too.
I am at once soaked and drenched in it. The beauty of it all.

6 Sept:
Woke up to the distinct sound of the Athaan Call to Prayer in my ears. Its 11am in Madinah, and check out time is after the midday prayer. Only thing is, its too early for the Athaan. But I was so sure. Still. The mind lacks a tether here. It only knows greatness, not of its own doing though. It's time to say farewell to this City of Angels, sadness distilled with the hope that the tranquility prevails, somewhat.

We traverse the Arabian desert for most of the afternoon, chomping kilometres in a rhino-esque vehicle called a GMC; less Gulf-ish than it sounds, as its really an American creature. We arrive in Jeddah just as the sun sets. A golden-pink sun bounces playfully on the horizon for a last few minutes before it plunges into the depths of the Red Sea. We take in the sights of this final destination of our Arabian journey. And then we fly home. Finality has so many colours for me. This time, it's many shades of red.

stress

I cannot remember being as stressed out as I was today.

I hope that its over for the most part.

There's always tomorrow.

Please God. Don't test my Love, so.

I'm only human.

And I am being human.

Mercy, please.

10 or so things I may impart to spawn that might be born someday

1. Read. Starting with The Tales of Peter Rabbit, of course! It will kickstart your imagination.

2. Travel. Because the world is filled with fresh oyster and it's a large percentage of water (dnt want to quote just any ol' stat so this will have to do). And water quenches many Thirsts, of course! ;)

3. Paint. Crayons on walls if you must! Draw. Sketch. Create!

4. Be. Exactly who you are! And precisely who you want to be. Even if that changes every day :)

5. Sing. Because a free voice is a free soul. Even if it's a tune to the rememberance of your Creator.

6. Believe! There is a Higher Power and each living being will construe of such in their own way. There is no other way.

7. Love. Deeply. There is NO other way.

8. Smile. It's one way to share good energy with all around you. And its the least you can do for the wonders that surround us.

9. Breathe. Everything else is a bonus! :)

10. Imagine. The possibilities are endless as the grains of sand on all the beaches of the world.

11. Visit Aunty Kay. She's cool. Really! :)

12. And I think I shan't be the one to teach them how to count to ten. Or how to colour in. Because, as you can see, I rarely stay in between the lines. Sigh.

13. Sigh. Really, because sighs of life are a form of prayer (ibaadat).

I TAG WHOEVER READS THIS AND WANTS TO GIVE IT A GO. OH? AZRA? DD? SAALS? CRIMSON? LADY H? MJ? SEHER? KILLA? DL? NIKKI? SAF? ANYBLOGGIES AND BLOGGERS :)

finding rest

“Of His signs is this: that He created for you spouses that you might find rest in them, and He ordained between you love and mercy.” (Quran, 30:21)


Just in case I was wont to imagine for a second that life is filled with rampant coincidences, I was once again reminded of the opposite this weekend. On the front page of my new novel occurs the above verse from the Quran. I love this verse for the simple promise that is revealed in a few words. And on my way to M's nikkah ceremony on Friday, I decided to post this up, in commemoration. I love it even more so after having heard the guest speaker, Hafez AB Mohammed, also an Advocate of both the SA High Court and the Dubai International Court, who quoted the same in his speech on Saturday night with a more than eloquent commentary and discussion on what 'sukoon' really entails.

'...that you might find rest in them...'

I wonder what that means for the many whose lips or eyes might glance over briefly or recite more fervently at some point. As a precursor to my book, it serves only to remind that a spouse might be the reason for life's irritations to be overlooked. That love might indeed be a worthy conqueror. (Especially in the context of an abusive marriage as is the case with my protagonist). But rest, in the speakers terms also meant a commitment to forever-ness. An oath and an allegiance to that partnership in all respects, with every part of a person's being. I think that thats the most beautiful word in the verse. And rightfully appearing before love and mercy... in fact a necessary pre-requisite to it.

A loyalty to self and extension of self. A state of being. A place. A rest.

on sheep and sleep

Of course I know that He has this Plan

and so I wade through the thick of it all

even in that moment of

an unavoidable sense of de ja vu

But then there's moments when I think

Let this be just a little different;

You know...

Seeing as it looks like

all my prayers

are being answered in one divine sweep!

Just a hint of something different;

a deviation from that pattern that drives me bonkers, almost!

And then it strikes:

that element of over-thinking things.

Aargh!

And in one Whoosh!

its all a chaotic

sludge of something

a bit dramatic.

Drama is good.

But not if you're trying

to get some

sleep.

As it is I rarely

sleep

on flight.

Sigh. So there's some catching up to do.

Hmm...

Maybe I should be doing grander things,

like counting sheep.

Backwards!

Kareem Salama: Generous Peace

many elves make light words

"Jesus, where the hell is everybody when they first deliver the typing paper? Where are all the "helpers" when those boxes full of silence come in? Blank. Both sides. No clues, no instructions enclosed on how to take just twenty-six letters and endlessly rearrange them so that you can turn them into a mirror of a part of our lives. Try it sometime."

-Larry Gelbart

I loved todays quote. (Scroll down page to see my daily-writer-quote widget thingie.

Anyway, it got me thinking... About how lonely the writing process can be; and yet there's a whole new world of fantasy and creativity open to the writer. And then, when the sheaths of paper are sitting in front of you, some black and white ramblings crawling over the once blank canvas; you the writer need to do some publishing. Well, in the world of publication, you will meet two types of person.

It's not all that complicated.

There will be some who will shun your work. That's expected. There will be some who will be downright rude. You will not get any straight answers. Or you will get the worse end of it. They all fall into the broad category first kind.
And then, there will be those second category ones who will be your angels in disguise. I say disguise because they're not always obvious. But every once in a while, you will cross paths with them and feel their warmth. Simple emails, a note, a word, a comment at the right place at the right time. Whoever doesn't believe in the single thread of energy that binds us is in denial. It's really as simple as that.

Some writer friends have had some wonderful experiences in the creative world. And some have had some horrendous and heartbreaking ones. Life toughens you. But this is a whole new schoolyard!

Someone thanked me last week for a piece of simple information/advice. Simple, but relevant at the time. And since information is never our own, just more energy to be shared along the way, I did just that. Someone has done good things for me before me. And hopefully the person I passed this on to, will do the same further along the line. So then, no need for elaborate thanks. It's enough to know that the spirit will just keep going. I am rewarded every day. How else will I show my appreciation?

So, here's to writing.

A Post About Nothing...

I am nothing

I wonder
from these thousands of "me's",
which one am I?
Listen to my cry, do not drown my voice
I am completely filled with the thought of you.
Don't lay broken glass on my path
I will crush it into dust.

I am nothing, just a mirror in the palm of your hand,
reflecting your kindness, your sadness, your anger.
If you were a blade of grass or a tiny flower
I would pitch my tent in your shadow.

Only your presence revives my withered heart.
You are the candle that lights the whole world
and I am an empty vessel for your light.


Rumi: "Hidden Music", p75

i surrender

i love the feeling of emptiness..
of going beyond the hunger and fatigue and just being
its that point when the body stops struggling
stops its nagging
stops its tantrums
and knows
nothings going to come of making a noise

and so it embraces silence
it finds peace
in surrender
what will be will be

body, emptied, melts into spirit
and it remembers ancient secrets
and it just remembers

zhikr is fuel to the spirit
its wat it really means to kill base needs
or the beginnin of it rather

this is where it all begins
in empty silence
in surrender
in being

i feel empty

i am empty.
empty of any reason. empty of understanding.
empty of. anything tangible.

then i remember rumi,
who seems to think that empty is full.
and full is empty..

so heres to you..
to you who brought out the torch.
to you that shone that light
to show me the way,
to you
who left that torch burning,
unguarded,
until, inevitably
it burnt those petals
that
you'd strewn
on my path..

to you.
for emptying me.
and filling me.
and emptying me.

to you..
thank you!

ramadaan kareem

Its that time of year again. Pre-Ramadaan. Johannesburg is abuzz with activity, shoppers are filling up on sweets and savouries and the hype of all things spiritual. Relatives are holding dinners and lunches and teenyboppers are making their way to the bowling alleys and movies for last minute stocking up on entertainment they might not get to partake in over the next month or so. I wont get into the discussion regards that whole abstenance thing. Theres lines in the sand in every game of make belief that life is made up of.. and we all draw them and even draw upon them when it best suites us. But, undoubtedly, theres an essence about the mental and menial preparation for this upcoming few weeks that I look forward to. Theres something to be said about the spirit of unity, the glint of a yearning for redemption perhaps, and the fortitude that awaits in a notion of having our demons chained someplace in the oceans darkest depths. Aah, the promise of free spiritedness. The promise of freedom to do and be soul content and fulfilled as such. The promise within the choice to abstain from the desires of ego. The licence to fly light. The reason we need to be seated with the joy of our souls. Maybe, just maybe.. Thats all it takes.

Heres wishing you and yours beauty in the search for spirit..

Ramadaan Kareem..

With love..