"Any wine will get you high.."

How strange of a human to resort to worldly descriptions, mere bottle of words and liquors of all sorts to get the Taste of Him.

How strange of a human who was created to be Liberated and yet confines himself to worldly toxication.

How strange of a human, confined in his chains, wrapping himself tightly in the shackles of his own, siting there with a glass of toxics to praise the One who created him free.

How strange of a human, who dances to the rhythms of Life, sways to His praise, from the confines of his mere understanding.

How strange of a human, that frustratingly and desperately seeks the meeting with His Beloved, unable to comprehend the attractions.

How strange of a human who needs to get high to feel High.

How strange of a human.

How mysterious of Him. He who tells the human to find the extent, discover the intensity and explore the depths to which he can get naturally High on Him.

He asks the human not to bring his soul down to the level of worldly toxications. For his soul has tasted the 

Magic of His Love.

his soul seems addicted and in search of the Purest.

How mysterious of Him that He says not to find Him with the worldly liquors that may run in the blood to give an illusion.

Instead, Find Him with the yearnings that run in the Soul.

He tells the human to be confident in his soul and not his body.

He tells the human to keep that glass down. To submit his body and liberate his Soul.

Even the path to getting High on Him, even just the feel of it is the purest of all Highs.
is the naturalist of all naturals.

Perhaps, the nearest our ordinary minds can take us is to feel by reading Rumi and Sham Tabriz, Nizamuddin Auliya and Amir Khusro. 

One such beautiful expression is through analogy drawn by Amir Khusro - 

"The road to the Well is much too difficult,

How to get my pot filled?
When I went to fill the water,
In the furor, I broke my pot.
Khusrau has given his whole life to you Oh, Nijam.
Would you please take care of my veil (or self esteem),
The road to the well is much too difficult."

There is a tree.

There is a tree in front of me. 

Some weird dots on all sides of it signalling first arrivals of spring. It is a perfectly healthy, old, big tree. I like it. 

Few days later, the signs of fresh leaves get more evident. 

A month later, the tree is blossoming with lush green heavy leaves. 

The tree enjoys its time. The attention it seems to be getting suddenly. 

The branches swirl around, hosting chirping birds and fruits. 

It gets rain, it gets sunshine. It seems life. 

Seasons pass. 

The tree stands in front of me. 

Some weird colors start appearing on the leaves. 

Few days later, the signs of fresh leaves departure get more evident. 

A month later, the tree is alone, dark, empty, naked. 

Everything about the tree changes except the trunk. 

The trunk's calmness, holding the tree, its link to its roots that makes it stay. 

Its trunk doesn't die with the dying of leaves. 

Its trunk doesn't rejoice with the arrival of the leaves. 

The pain happens in Spring and Autumn. 

The pain occurs with the arrival and departure. 

The pain is what happens. 

Again and again and again. 

Each time. Every time. 

From the day the tree is born till the day the tree dies. 

Pain is the natural process of it. 

Arrival and departure are natural processes. 

And they are marked with Pain. 

With each dying of leaf, the tree takes the pain, and gives it into the roots. 

The roots absorb the pain, making the tree resilient as it is. 

Summer doesn't reflect happiness. 

Winter doesn't reflect sadness. 

In Life, 

There is no consistent happiness. There is no consistent sadness. 

They are marked by in between seasons of pain. 

Each moment of pain offers a natural channel.

A channel where the pain can be routed, can be channelized 

into the roots of the Heart. 

The Heart has Him. He is the Heart.  

Giving pain to Him, makes us more resilient. Stronger. 

Our little heart than grows its own neurons of wisdom. 

And that is what keeps the tree strong. 

That is what keeps us going. Strong. Calm. Peaceful. Happy at Heart. 

While the seasons change outside, we are Happy with Him inside. 

Fire.

There's fire in front of me.

Couple of wood stacks burning together.

I sit there, watching from a distance.
I get up, pick up a few more wood sticks and throw in there.
The fire hungrily hogs down the sticks.
I again get up, throw in a few drops of fuel.
The fire aggressively erupts. Selfishly taking in the fuel.

I go back and sit where I was sitting.
I watch.
The fire now looks bigger. Brighter. Angrier.
Somehow peaceful because its there. Its burning. It exists.

I get up again.
I pick the bucket of water. I throw it on the fire.
The fire leaps forth. Attacks. Anguished. Hurt. It burns like never before.
I throw in another bucket of water.
This time, it gets worse. In its attempt to survive, it fights.

Each flame seems to battle with thousand water droplets. It looks back, angrily. As if asking me, how could I.

It fights. It battles. It continues stubbornly while I continue stubbornly to throw water.

It plays well, with each weakening flame, it tries even harder. Even more aggressively. Until eventually it loses its battle. It dies into ashes.

And then comes the smoke. Lingering around in the air, as if still stating that it exists. As if still somehow trying to 'remain'.

Until well, even the smoke dies. And there remains no fire.

Each day, each moment, each second there is a fire within us. Our mind. Our ego. Our long stream of unstoppable thoughts that talk to us throughout the day. That tiny little voice in the brain that nobody hears except us.

Its fire. And we, succumb to its comfort. And just when we think its weakening, we give it life. We add fuel by paying attention. We add fuel by plucking the past, the future. We add fuel by doubting the Present. We add fuel. Because we have been accustomed to the fire's presence.

And just when the wonders of pure water, magic of the Present splashes water over the flame, it reacts aggressively.  Painfully our thoughts,  our ego fights back to ensure survival. It somehow doesn't want to admit defeat to the fact that there is nothing wrong with Here, Now.

All along,  each moment, He lays before us a stream, a river, a sea of Time. of Now. He doesn't want us to find Him in past. He doesn't want us to find Him in future. Perhaps He wants us to explore His depth in the Blessings of this very moment.

All along, the Healer of healers gives us ways to Heal. While we keep focusing on the comforts of painful fire, He tries liberating us to the Joys of Now.

He liberates. we confine.
He eases the pain. we create the fire of pain.
He Heals. we still stay wounded.
He comforts. Somehow, we still find the uncomfortable fire of agony within..more comfortable.

There's fire in front of me. Of my thoughts. My ego. My past. My future fears. And I choose to extinguish it by Trusting His Present. I choose to Know Him, not through the brain that gives past and future worries

but through the yearning of the Heart seeking its own kind of brain.

Be.

we worked. we got.

we worked harder. we broke. 

we ran. we repented. we got all. 

we were happy. we forgot whom we had repented to. 

we lost all. we repented again.

somewhere in between, we ended up making an equation. 

in smallness of our doing, we shrunk His Giving. 

in smallness of our vision, we shrunk His Grandness. 

in smallness of our will, we shrunk His Will. 

in be, we shrunk His Be. 

we equated the Creator to the creation. 

somewhere in between, I forgot about this canvas. 

Have I ever thought. 

Of this canvas in front of me.

On this canvas is a dot.

The dot is meeting a web. 

A scribbled web. 

The web seem to have particles. 

entangled particles.

particles of Realization of my helplessness. 

particles of Realization of my power. 

Both entangled in the very moment of my own free will. 

My own free will is the web. 

The web mingles with the dot on the canvas. 

The Dot.

The Vibe. 

The Dot sends out the vibe. 

Resonating, shaking and evolving the web. 

the web of my free will. 

Have I ever thought. 

Of this canvas in front of me. 

Where Seeking meets the Seeker. 

Unaware of what it is Seeking.

Where Yearning concludes. 

Unaware of the Yearning's purpose within.

Have I ever thought of the dot.

Where Giver gives. 

Where Healer heals. 

Where Dua, Hope, Will exist. 

Where Be happens. 

Have I ever thought of the Be.

Where He says Be and it is. 

Sticks and nails.

When I was a kid, I got a carton full of wood sticks and nails. 

I spent my childhood till now to create a perfect box out of it. 

Now, there is a box in front of me. I created it. I am its master. 

It is perfect from each side, from each corner. 

I start bringing in things to fit it. Some fit, some do not. 

I try putting in clothes, folded, they all settle. Unfolded, they all are jumbled, making the box look unclean. 

I try putting in water, but it recedes through the gaps in the box.

I try putting in sand, but gradually it recedes through. 

Crazily, I try putting in all my stuff at once. 

Frustrated, I blame the things not fitting in. 

The box is the illusion of reality I had created for myself. 

My fears of experiencing everything perfect made me obsess with the box. 

I focused on fitting everything in that box. 

I centered my life on that box. 

Happiness equated to whatever could fit in that box. 

That box became my identity. 

I felt happy and related to what could fix in it. 

I felt unhappy, depressed and dejected when things could not fit in. 

Before long, I began feeling and thinking on behalf of the box. 

Became defensive of it. 

Then one day, I was taken away. The box was dismantled and given to another kid to play. 

The box is my illusion, my unreal identity. 

As children, we get wooden sticks and nails to play.

We end up making boxes and carrying them around as ourselves. 

No. 

There is no box. 

Stop skewing reality and deciding what to put in the box to feel the happiness. 

The box doesn't feel. 

The box doesn't exist. 

Feel the pain of breaking the box before you are taken away and the box dismantled. 

That which within you does not feel threatened

That which within you does not feel insecure

That which within you remains calm 

That is you through Him. That is you who knows The Truth, The Reality. 

That is you who doesn't need a box outside to accept and reject. 

Here is a box in front of me. 

Its painful to think of its nonexistence. 

I blink and it disappears. 

I feel Myself Real. 

There is a vessel

There is a vessel. A wooden beautiful vessel. 

 It is filled with water. To the brim. 

The Sunshine shines back in water reflection illuminating the room. 

Few moments later, the water from the vessel is drained away. 

It is now filled with grass. To the brim.

The subtle fragrance of the grass freshens the room. 

Few moments later, the vessel is emptied of the grass. 

It is now filled with pebbles. To the brim. 

The pebbles mark the outline, standing higher than the brim of the vessel, as if asserting their existence across the room. 

Few moments later, the pebbles from the vessel are taken away. 

All along, the vessel's capacity does not change. The vacuum does not change. The vessel remains. The contents of the vessel change. 

We are the vessel. The contents are our circumstances. Each moment, every second, ever changing. 

All along, our capacity to encompass our circumstances does not change. The capacity within has been created to incorporate, encompass, welcome and host what comes. 

Where does He live then? He doesn't live in the capacity created. 

The wooden beautiful vessel is created out of wood. He is the One who has created the vessel. 

Just as the vessel is what it is because of the wood. We are what we are through Him. 

Our body is the knots and bolts and designs on the wooden vessel. Our soul is the strength of the vessel. 

There is a vessel. A wooden beautiful vessel. 

"Impatient Optimists"

So, I stumbled across a blog - www.writermehdi.blogspot.com with just one entry. Nothing special. Just another one expressing herself on digital. However, given the fact that she is 15, her thoughts, expressed in a raw manner seemed quite different for the girl of her age. Nope, not one of those digital kids who just upload fancy book pictures with fancy quotes. 

Today, I feel there are two kinds of kids in this world. 

one whose parents spend more time marketing their kid's creme educational upbringing. 

And another whose parents spend time helping their kid through primary school. 

one who, as a kid reads not because he/she likes to read but because it is fashionable to. 

and another who reads unknowingly. unaware of his/her own passion and addiction to reading. 

one who needs a digital gadget to read. 

and another who reads even from the torn pages of oil stained samosa packets. 

one who buys the best stationary to express in the most eloquent manner. 

and another who is always scolded for reading what is not the main text. 

one who reads and repeats. 

and another who reads and struggles to repeat the same text. 

one who gets good marks because of beautiful handwriting. 

and another who is not always appreciated for letting his/her hand wander at the speed of his/her brain thinking. 

one who is always so finely right, so wonderfully apt with the rules of the language. 

and another who always forget the spelling of neighbor, or a coma there and a full stop here. 

one who always has answers.

another who always has questions. 

one who speaks and then thinks. 

another who doesn't speak, because he/she is busy reading. 

one who grows up to be repeater. 

another who grows up to be a thinker. 

one who thinks and act just his/her age.

another who thinks and acts ahead of his/her time. 

one who grows up often to be another of 7 billion. 

another who grows up to be the one who rest of 7 billion look at. 

one who desperately searches his/her phone & relationships for his/her identity. 

another who grows up making his/her own identity. 

It is always a pleasure meeting the second kid. Always a pleasure. These are the "impatient optimists" of the future who don't even realize how much 7 billion of us need them. 

Zartosht & Shervin

Once upon a time, there lived two friends in a village not so far away.

Zartosht and Shervin. Both were eleven year old young kids who attended nearby small village school every day. They usually sat next to each other. The villagers were fascinated by their friendship given the polarized nature of each.

Zartosht was a very rational, rough kid. He was blunt and to the point. Everybody speculated that he had the natural ability to become a big city businessman one day. At the mere age of 11, he had already been able to secure a few deals. He would put his skills to use and earn money in return from his little gang of friends. If there was someone clever, it was definitely him.

Shervin on the other hand was a very polite, silent and a soft kid. He didn't quite like being blunt. He didn't know how to think in terms of profit and gain. For him, everything was connected in the realm that even he could not understand. It wasn't thus surprising that he didn't ever quite get into the business dealing stuff with his friends.

However, despite their differences, Shervin and Zartosht were good friends. Shervin would often warn Zartosht about his dealings, telling him to tone down his cleverness and calculations a bit.

One day, their teacher came in the classroom and introduced an old guy. The old fragile 70 year old guy was the new replacement for their class. He would now be heading all their classes and assignments, informed the former teacher.

The old guy had a very calm appearance with a slight smile. Everyone seemed intrigued by his outlook.

First day of his class, he told everyone that they will have a week long test. In the test, the kids are required to go to the nearby market and purchase a few apples daily. Whoever sustains the relationship with the vendor shall win.

The next day, Zartosht immediately sprang to action. Given his natural traits of business dealing, he was confident in winning the little test. The first day, apply vendor offered him 2 apples for 10 dinars. He was really happy. He bought them and came home. The same episode repeated with Shervin.

Both came home and compared their test cards.
Zartosht: 2 apples for 10 dinars.
Shervin: 2 apples for 10 dinars.

The following day, the apple vendor seemed grumpy. He was selling way above the normal rate. Zartosht wasn't happy, he ended up arguing with him. The vendor offered him a closed deal finally. Zartoshst hence was forced to buy 1 apple for 10 dinars. He was really frustrated. Shervin, on the other hand, did not argue with the vendor. So the vendor offered him an apple for 7 dinars.

Both came home and compared their test cards.
Zartosht: 1 apple for 10 dinars.
Shervin:  1 apple for 7 dinars.

Days went by, gradually, the vendor was getting grumpier. Zartosht couldn't take his attitude. He didn't like how he was losing on his profit. While Shervin remained patient. Shervin didn't quite like the vendor's attitude either, but he remained quiet.

Finally, one day, frustrated, Zartosht ended up fighting with Shervin. He couldn't understand why Shervin was not reacting, not doing anything about it. Shervin just smiled back, he calmed Zartosht down and told him to focus less on his profit. Zartosht...just couldn't take it.

On the final day, Zartosht and the vendor refused to even acknowledge each other.

In the class, Zartosht stood up, excitedly like a little kid ready with his complain. He complained and whined about the vendor to the old teacher. The old teacher simply smiled.

Everyone counted their apples and profits and spoke of their experiences.

The old guy then silenced the class and started, "My dear children, hope you enjoyed the game. While as it may have been tempting to earn a profit from the game, the idea was never the profit. The idea was simply and merely to test if you can sustain the relationship with the vendor or not. He was deliberately grumpy to discourage you. The vendor spoke well of Shervin. He seemed fond of Shervin."

Despite cleverness and wit, Zartosht had lost. Not because he did not have the important skills, but because he was too engrossed in using those skills to listen to the old man carefully.

Zartosht is our brain. Shervin is our heart. The apple vendor is the world.

If we put the old man in there first, if we put just One Voice in their First, the rest becomes easy.

He may ask us to do things, may ask us to be with the world when the world may or may not want us, or the world may even seem distracted from what we have to offer. Its just the world. It is that way.

He doesn't want us to just secure profits from the world. He wants us to sustain the relationship with it. Calculations of the brain can and will hinder the process. It is only the Heart with His direction that perhaps knows. We all would end up frustrated, disappointed if we start calculating the profits and the losses we make from this world. We'd be guilty or proud in comparing how we have more or they have less.

We'd just not win, not because we don't know how to, but because it is not about winning gains or running after, its about sustaining relationship with the world.

Only.

I am sitting in the car, we are going to some relative's place for dinner. It is dark outside. I notice the funny lines on the billboards, bored, I move to noticing the lamp posts, soon they disappear and lush trees appear in sight looking dark and scary in the night.

 I notice them for a while and then look up. All along, there is just one thing since the start of my journey from home till now on the road that has remained with me. The moon smiles back. It seems to have been following me since the moment I left home. I spoke to the moon before dozing off. I woke up, we were still on the motorway, the moon still there. I felt we would win and the moon would be left behind. Didn't happen either. I am still on the road. Moon remains my point of reference. My guide. My solace. People sitting in the front of the car change. People sitting next to me change. People outside, the boards, the trees, the areas, the lamp posts everything changes. What doesn't change is the Moon.

From parents to friends to crushes to our partners. We are always in search of filling our devoid. It is like we hold ourselves tight in the world, desperately looking for someone/something to empty ourselves on. To rely on. We are frustratingly looking for that feeling that once that moon gave to us every time we looked at it as a child from the backseat of our car on the motorway. 

And when just about everyone seems to fail at letting us be dependent on them, we get impatient. In our desperate outward attempt to fill the inward void, we start trading our emptiness. In search for the Moon, we start calling everyone the moon. We start making deals of our voids. You take care of me, I'll take care of you. We get into friendships, we get into substance abuse, we get into relationships - all simply out of attempts to feel like that little kid who had the moon all along his journey. 

We need to stop looking for the moon in people like you and me. Stop satisfying our devoid with temporary illusions of Perfection. Stop driving our pain away with opium addictions of people, things and places. 

We need to stop looking around and simply look up. 

He stands between me and me. 

Within Me. Of Him who knows me more than myself. 

He runs through me, for me, with me, outside of me. 

He stands between me and you. 

When you hurt me, I turn to Him. 

When I feel the need of dependence for you, I turn to Him. 

When I feel you're happy, I turn to Him. 

When I feel you're sad, I turn to Him. 

When you need me, I am here because He is with me. 

All along, I am being to you what He is to me. As just another human with needs, we need to learn to be the child who looks up to the Moon that Lasts. We need to be the child that empties the heart to the Moon. He is like that moon that made us smile and kept us accompanied through our journey as a child.

He is the Utmost Refuge. The Reference Point. The Focal Point. 

He gives us to give the world.
So that, when the world comes stumbling upon to you, you give them of everything you have while not expecting the same in return. For your expectations, your peace, your mundane daily solace lies with Him. you tell Him and He'll do the rest for you as He has been doing. You just be and let Him Be.

Battle of Valentines.

"Haha, you know what, I don't blame us man. Come on, all we have seen/heard since childhood is just battles. Remember our Islamiyet Olevels paper? Just a few bunch of battles that helped us spread this faith? We love battles. Except for the one within, we love all sorts of battles outside."

There is a field. Field where we position. Position ourselves, our beliefs, our customs, our identities, our list of hate, our list of love, what we promote as hate and what we promote as love.

If we are expressing our opinion, our thoughts about anything we are willingly and intentionally choosing to be positioned in the field. By expressing, we are maturely taking the decision to become the ambassadors of what we are saying. Expression comes with responsibility. Whether you express in a group of friends over coffee or in a conference.

Despite the world telling you otherwise, you are being judged and positioned in the minds of other people. Constantly. Every moment. Our attempts to fake a certain identity doesn't last long. Hence, in this field, when we express, whatever we express, we are cautiously choosing to establish an ideology or support an existing one.

When somebody points at hijab and asks if I am doing so out of oppression, I don't defend the terrorists who sold that impression to the world. But yes, I use the opportunity to position my stance against it. It is like the world giving you a minute to make/break/reinforce their current image of my faith.

I was clicking pictures at the Diwali festival on Trafalgar Square few months back when I was stopped by an old lady. She tapped on my shoulder and gestured towards my scarf.

"Are you wearing this because its cold?" She asked. Fragile, old 70 something lady dressed in long skirt.
"No." I smiled.
"Are you a Muslim?" She then asked.
"Yes" I responded, feeling a bit uneasy.
Before I knew it, she hugged me tight and happily said "Enjoy my child. God bless you! I love muslims who celebrate diwali with us!"
Out of excitement and surprise, I ended up sharing all my fascinations with festivals, celebrations and happiness.

And that is when I realized. Those three minutes, how crucial were those moments to define my stance, to express who I am and where I stem from.

We all get such moments. To pierce through the wrong stereotypes attached with our identity. Be it an identity as a woman. Be it an identity as a girl clad in scarf. Be it an identity as a mere student.

While scrolling through the newsfeed and recalling messages from last year, I am amused at the amount of time/energy we spend at defending religion against 14th February.

Not celebrating it out of personal choice is one thing. Not celebrating it, taking out the sword of Religion and then preaching the rest not to is another.

If you ever have to see the insecurity and epitome of defense mechanism in action, then witness the ambassadors who suddenly remember to propagate what is right and wrong exactly and precisely on the day when the world wants to celebrate something.

Few years back, somebody rightly pointed out. We are the conspiracy theory. We hate when we are marginalized and labelled as terrorists, as oppressed ladies behind the veil, as members of the religion that spreads hatred. Lets be honest.

Why wouldn't you say that about a bunch of confused ambassadors (every single one of us) when we love being sadists and harming ourselves? We hardly let go of instances to prove otherwise anyway.

Be it a Zionist lobby, a conspiracy theory from Mars or another attempt by some evil power to eradicate our expression, if we are leveraging "Valentines Day" to spread any message that carries even a slightest resemblance to being inferred that our religion is a religion of "hatred"...

I repeat.  if we are leveraging "Valentines Day" to spread any message that carries even a slightest resemblance to being inferred that our religion is a religion of "hatred"...

If we are using the name of God and His Obligations to satisfy our egos in arguments against "Valentines Day" then know well, we are the conspiracy theory.

Here is a day, like many others celebrated, where the world is giving you an absolute opportunity to prove how your Religion propagates Love. Actually, they are not even asking us, but nevertheless, considering how we spring into action against the day, it has yet again helped to set eyes on how YOU and I will react to it every year. Its a fragile situation where you and I can make or break the image.

I don't get it why can't this day be used more sensibly? I am yet to find a teaching where God and this faith ever told me that it is wrong to smile, spread smile, buy/share flowers, express intimacy with my loved ones.

If we or part of us are bypassing obligations set by the Faith then it is not the Valentines Day that is wrong. Don't blame satanic forces of St. Valentines. Let's blame ourselves, our weak will power, our dearth of understanding God and His message, our lack of inherent ability to express/spread Love in the right way.

If for some, the day means love equally sex and lust; then I don't get how it is eradicating the other definition of Love being something far more honorable. So much so, that we feel the need to defend our faith against it. As if, the faith would expire on the eve of 14th February if we don't express our hatred for it.

If some of us are not avid fans of the day, then let it be. Don't drag in religion to prove what you don't want to be a part of. Stop selling religion and God.

Right to respectfully disagree and co exist peacefully is different from trying to legitimize your "intolerance"/ "eradication" of others' customs.

Start using your moments wisely to express what you advocate...responsibly. 

Then which of His blessings will you deny?

- I don't deserve all the good things in life. Do I?
Sure you do. Why not?
- Because I am far less deserving than all the others out there.
And what makes you think He is giving you more while not blessing the more deserving?
- Because that is what I see when I look around.
The problem with us is, we fidget our pockets, take out the guilt lens, wear it and view the world according to it. The One that you repent to feeling guilty is the One who is also Just. When being guilty for all the good things in life, while feeling undeserving of His blessings, you are doubting His Grandeur.

How do we then accept His Favors?

First by correcting the question in our mind. It is not His favors. Calling them "favors" is by default assuming that we can repay those good things. "favors" can be repaid or at least tried to be repaid. Can you ever? We can never. Those are not His Favors. They are His Blessings. We perhaps are not eligible for good things if we limit His Kingdom to Justice. But beyond just being Just, He is Grand. He is Generous. He is Merciful.
How do you then expect Him to give you any less in your life?

He blesses you with pain, with anguish, with yearning to make you more confident in Love. He blesses you with good things and a sensitivity to sense how blessed you are. Not because He wants you to feel guilty. But perhaps because He wants you to spread your blessings. You feeling blessed right now? Go hug somebody. Share the vibe. Give somebody hope. Say a little prayer for them. Its called Magic.

So how we then show Gratitude towards His Blessings?
By trusting Him. By accepting His gift.
By making the Blessings work for you in life.
By serving the Blessings.
By being the Magic through His Blessings.
By being who He wants you to be.
By fulfilling the reason why He blessed you.


By simply, being Blessed and praying the same for the rest.

Orange Juice

As a child, I could not have orange juice. Orange juice would flare up my tonsils and I'd end up falling sick, skipping school and staying home for at least a week. Henceforth, I was never allowed orange juice. For some reason, orange juice became synonym to junk food for me. I grew up believing that orange juice was bad for health. 

I never even had the time to pause, stop and really revisit my own opinion of orange juice. It was so fixed. So given. So natural. So logical. 

Thus, I would, without thinking, reject orange juice and pick up tea or water from the tray when being hosted by guests. 

It was not until I was in my 20s and my doctor suggested that I should replace tea with orange juice which made me pause. It was absurd. After all these years, something, some feeling came crashing down in me. Orange juice? Really? Isn't it bad for health? My doctor was as confused as I was. "Err, no Ms. Haider, orange juice is in fact integral for health.". 

Really. I pondered. Oh, well, I googled, shut my embarrassing confession within and couldn't believe how stupid I could be to not even question my own notion for all these years. I could live with flu but orange juice intake in flu to ease my flu? That seemed absurd. 

As children, we all are subjected to different experiences. From extreme cases of varying degree of abuses/violence to punishment, neglect, rejection, bullying etc. We may not have been direct victims of it often, but perhaps may have been its observers. Either way, we are subjected to experiences that make us carve our escape. Just like, because of tonsils, I couldn't have orange juice then as a child. 

Unfortunately, we grow up but somewhere within us remains a child that we fail to take along. This child still believes in orange juice philosophy.

A guest comes to me today with a tray of orange juice and water. 

I deny myself orange juice because I feel uncomfortable with it. I have always had water and tea. 

A moment of experience comes to me. 

I deny myself the pleasure of acknowledging and facing it because I feel uncomfortable with it. 

We deny ourselves simplicity because we find complexity more familiar. We confuse familiar with love, with happiness. We deny ourselves simple pleasures of living. 

Ironically, when the world tells us to try and break our perceptions like a doctor telling me to try orange juice. We pause. 

We then put on our victim mask and force ourselves to try experiences because the world is forcing us or because we ought to do it. Rather than experiencing and breaking perceptions and healing for the sake of improving ourselves, we try experiences because we feel forced to, not because we ought to. 

We push moments and experiences away, not because we don't like them, but because we have been in a habit of living the familiar, living the comfortable pain. If we embrace the moments and the experiences, we wouldn't have any pain left to feed our inner self. It just wouldn't feel like the inner kid.  

We pretend to like the orange juice, to go with the flow, but somewhere we are also trying to avoid it. Somewhere, we are all still striving to seek and live the familiar.

So when the air hostess asked me what would I like to have. 

"Er..tea..no, actually orange juice please? I uttered. 

"Sure" She said broadly smiling and handing me over a chilled glass of fresh orange juice. 

The inner child shouted within, I smiled gently at her, sshhed her, ensuring that I am a big girl with no tonsils left. It felt like embracing life.  And you know what, I did not get any tonsils after having that glass of orange juice. I did not feel like a victim of myself. I felt more Human. More real. More comfortable and more confident with Life.

Heart.

There is a small vacuum, empty space in the ground right in front of me.

It is strange how it gets filled with water when it rains, only to be left empty, hollow when the sun shows up.

It gets filled with sand whenever there is sandstorm. Only to be eroded of the sand grains once the storm settles.

It gets filled up with the particles of broken autumn leaves, only to be left alone again when the winter hits.

It then gets filled up when it snows, but eventually the snow melts and it is back to being empty.

There are ants, stream of ants that tirelessly bring bits and pieces of straws to fill it up. Only to their dismay, the emptiness remains.

It feels, out of desperation of its emptiness, the vacuum just sucks into whatever comes its away.

And if nothing else comes, it remains there still, loathing its misery or failures. It remains there revisiting the autumn leaves, the snow, the water, all that once occupied it.

We are taught that this is our heart. We are taught and showed how our heart behaves in the same manner. We are taught the emptiness of the Heart that can only be filled with the Real Presence.

However, we are wrong. The Heart is not empty. The Heart does not crave filling. It is already filled. It is full and whole. It is like that smooth surface on which nothing else can settle, because there is no space for anything else.

What does look and feel like empty hole is the heart of our ego. Since childhood, we mistakenly start feeling through the heart of our ego. Since our ego is nothing but a reflection of others within us, since our ego is nothing but a mirror image of an illusion, it needs to keep telling itself that it exists. This heart of the ego hungrily then creeps for external approval, for constant presence, for company, for obsession with people, with objects. And if it doesnt get anything, it feeds unto its own miseries, past failures. Its existing pains is nothing but a reactivation of its past sufferings. It misinterprets all the tests it gets in Life. It deliberately takes those Beautiful Tests of Life and turn them into a reason of suffering and blaming its ownself or others. 

Heart of our ego is like this hole on the ground.

As we are growing up, because the Real Heart is so settled, the heart of the ego gets the limelight.

We start feeling through the heart of the ego rather than think through the brain of our Heart.

The Heart so beautiful, so connected, so peaceful and so much at ease with us. We only heal when we turn back to the Real Heart within us. So complete that it has the courage of healing the world.

Conversation

I found myself stuck in a strange conversation today with another friend of mine. She has been fighting an illness. Not so surprisingly, we ended up discussing ego, our identities, mind chatters, pain and love. I asked her what she thought of pain, of love and of God. We debated a few minutes, before she ended up concluding her philosophy as this. I paused. I struggled to open the nearest white space where I could scribble as she went on.

I then struggled to frame it. Frame it in a story. Write it as an idea. Debate it. Discuss it. My mind desperately looked for ways to express it in my words. But well, I failed. Because the simple, mundane beauty of it remains. Simple and straight forward.

As she finished, I had managed to scribble the best part of her conversation. I repeated it to her. I told her I found it so straight forward. So brutally yet simply put as a fact. She smiled back. She said, that's what she has learnt from her recent times. I was waiting for her permission to blog it. And well, here I am!

"Woh humsay buhat saaray kaam karwata hai. Kisi ko subkuch deykr. Kisi say subkuch leykr. Insaan apni zaat mein kuch nahi hota. Iska dil, iska wujood sirf ek khala hoti hai jisko insaan beytaabi keh saath dunyavi cheezon say bherta chala jata hai.

Insaan apnay dil mein lust toh paida kersakta hai. Chahay woh insaan ki lust ho, paisay ki, daulat ki. Kisi bhi cheez ki. Kyun keh insaan kaheen na kaheen ek janwar hai. Lekin is dil mein muhabbat sirf Khuda paida kerta hai. Sirf Woh hai jo is dil mein muhabat rakhta hai. Aur muhabat ek ajeeb dard keh wujood keh saath aati hai.

Khuda yeh muhabbat rakh ker, uski himmat deykr, usko namumkin banakr humko humaray na honay ka ehsaas dilata hai. Woh humko Apnay subkuch honay ka ehsaas dilata hai."

I tried and failed to translate the idea. It doesn't just has to be a human, a family, a relationship, a boyfriend, a husband. The pain of love can merely come from Yearning. Anything unexpected within. Such humanly interactions and worldly affairs are then just another reason to further the Yearning and deepen the pain of Realizing. Realizing who we are nothing, and how He is Everything.

It is wonderful how her words did not meet me. They met somebody inside me. I felt Touched. Some part of me felt like it was waking up from the sleep.