Remembrance

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'Alā bi dhikri llāhi tatma'in al-qulūb'
'Surely, is it not through remembrance of Allah that hearts feel at peace?'

Recently in Karachi  I was blessed with the opportunity to join with a women's halaqa where I met with close friends and others for a dhikr. At the beginning I shared with everyone a message from my father, Shaykh Fadhlalla Haeri. The transcript follows:

"Our life on earth is a transition; it is a work in progress. It is for that reason nothing whatsoever will be enough for us. There is no situation or state in which anyone can say they are fully content. It is not true.

Nothing will ever be fully done or completed, either in terms of rationality or otherwise, unless you are at all times connecting to your soul, connecting your mind, memory, rationality and intentions with your soul - which is the nur of Allah. Your soul is the nur of Allah.

So until this resonance takes place you will be in a constant state of guilt, error, and self-reproach. If you remember that which is from beyond memory, from before memory - the Qur'anic ayah tells us 'Was there not a time where you were a thing not to be mentioned?'

There was a time when your ruh preceded the manifestation of your physical body. and this is who we are: we are a ruh. And this ruh is in exile within the body for a while.  And the purpose is for the so-called individual who is a mixture between past, mind, biography and the nur of Allah is to go back to world of lights.  If it is ready, it goes straight to the lights. If it is not it goes through a little bit of turbulence, whether it be hell or paradise.

So the purpose of salat, of dhikr,  of 'ibada, mostly come to the same point: of being completely - by will - thoughtless [without wandering thoughts], neutral, but present, light in the moment. Whatever we practise, even reading Qur'an, will take us along a terrain that goes up and down, and then into a zone where anything can happen anytime in an instant. It means the ruh is not caught in space and time. It is only the body that is caught in space and time, and the mind, and the memory - your biography.

So if you are not doing this work on yourself then you are not fulfilling the purpose for which you were created. And if you are doing it then you will reach a point where it is perpetual -  as the Qur'an describes, those who are constantly in their prayers ('al-ladhīna fī salātihim dā'imūn')."

Alhamdulillah!

Being & Belonging

I belong nowhere, therefore I belong everywhere. Smatterings of chattering in several languages help me shape-shift at will. I have a saffron-clad Swami to thank for learning as a child the taste of the company of the enlightened. I have the awliya' (awakened beings) of Islam to thank for compass-points on this journey. My heart is a light-detector - it works brilliantly if I keep it tarnish-free. So many relationships have helped me learn this art: my father (he is my 'country'), my mother, my grandmother, my husband, my kids, my siblings, my precious friends, the shayukh & the fuqara, strangers on a plane, the blind beggar two streets away, my saintly helpmates, my cat Sushi. Above all, the irresistible gravity of the soul's light is pulling, inviting me to fall...into oblivion's bliss.*

So much human endeavour is fraught with and fueled by the search for belonging and the need to belong. Books, films, poems, songs, art, buildings… thousands of items reek of this quest. We are all busy fulfilling this impulse and its sister impulse: the need to express this belonging.

Belonging is like a pendulum. It sweeps along an arc that is marked by many shades and textures that render each process of identification unique. Sometimes the markers that stick out are to do with place: the country of birth or childhood or chosen country of residence. Sometimes they are to do with profession: public service, creative arts, medicine etc. Other times they are to do with social constructs: class, tribe; or religious affiliation, or disability, or personality traits, or... The mind boggles at all the DNA permutations of how we envision our belonging.

As someone who has had her sense of belonging challenged by a peripatetic upbringing and lifestyle, I’ve been forced to look beyond static markers. Increasingly as I grow older, the signposts of belonging are becoming unmoored from time and place and circumstance. Even as the markers become more rarified – to do with beliefs, outlooks, affinities, self-deconstruction – they are still morphing ahead into undefined, fluid zones where the markers almost cease to have any form or relevance.

The Qur’an tells us ‘inna lillah wa inna ilayhi raj’iun’ —‘Surely we are Allah's and unto Him we return.' Often the only time we invoke this verse is when someone we know dies. Then it’s like, ‘Ah yes, there was nothing permanent or possessed about this life at all…’, and we sigh wistfully as the  hollowness of a life attached is revealed for the mirage it is. We keep forgetting, so we keep needing to remember.

When I read this verse I am reminded that we are more connected to the Unseen – the ‘alam al-ghayb – than we like to admit or realize. There’s a practical veiling of our consciousness that falls into place – a necessary one for without it likely as not we would unravel and lie there in a pulsating heap of cells, electrical impulses, whimsical fancies and viscera. The power of sight greedily gobbles up the chiaroscuro of waking life to persuade us that everything around us is real and huge and is filling us and our lives to bursting point. And this illusion is shored up further by the conditioned consciousness, individual and shared – all those neural pathways etched and grooved with commonly held truths and facts and factoids about our lives. But the blind lead the way in showing us that an immense world exists that cannot be ‘seen’. Through their other senses – often sharpened beyond the norm – they become more adept at perceiving nuances in tone, alterations in the vibrational energy of a room, maybe more prescient even.

When the power of insight starts to develop we can start to bridge the link between the Seen and the Unseen.  Not everything that we can feel has a form. Not every marker of identity can define us fully. We need to belong, but equally, we need to escape the confines of that belongingness.  We can begin to sense that belonging is not a goal with fixed goalposts. Through refinement of our inner senses we can tap into subtle resources that will begin to reveal to us a deeper awareness of belonging and identity. That can only come through switching off the outer senses. Quietening the mind. Turning inward. Becoming silent. Still. Plumbing the depths of invocation to a zone where no sound is recognized, though indeed a sound may be emitting. 

The Qur’an indicates the methodology or refining the inner senses in numerous places and ways: through reflection (tafakkur), through witnessing (tashahhud), through intellecting (ta’aqqul), and above all through remembering (tadhakkur).  ‘Ala bi dhikri’llah tatma’in al-qulub'  – ‘Is it not by the remembrance of Allah hearts are assured and made tranquil?’ This is the supreme technique to reach inner peace: remembrance of Source, of the One and Only Being. 

This by implication means abandoning attachment to any idea of belonging, certainly to any place or time, and more importantly, to the sway of the egotized self. Such invocation leads to an emptying of the small ‘self’, a stripping, a denuding of those illusory veils that enable us to play our part in the theatre of life. With the self made transparent, the soul’s light cannot but shine through.  If that itmi’nan is located – that reassurance, tranquility and peacefulness – then we return to Source as the Qur’an describes, ‘ya ayyatuha’n-nafsal-mutma’innah, irja’i ila rabbika radiyatan, mardiyyah’ – ‘Oh soul that is in inner peace, return to your Lord, pleased and well-pleasing.’

*After I had submitted this paragraph as a background story for IMOW, I was inspired to write the rest of this blog entry. Click here to find out more about this cool project International Museum of Muslim Women

Ramadan Redux III - Day 10 Stocktake

It is just over ten days into this blessed month of withdrawal and silencing the senses.There is a distinct rhythm I have fallen into, quite unlike past Ramadans. Something has shifted for me this year and I am amazed at the energy I have. Perhaps its because of studious avoidance (but not entirely consistent) of starches. Or perhaps the monsoon breezes have taken the edge off the heat and hence the days scorch less than in the past few years - not an insignificant factor. Or perhaps its because, as our traditions tell us, Shaytan  - that deleterious, insidious energy - is held in chains for the duration, while the doors of mercy are open. Or perhaps it is because the sheer intention to please Allah raises the act of fasting from miserable,  pedestrian deprivation to heightened awareness of Allah's Grace, Mercy, Majesty, Magnanimity, and Love. And because of that my consciousness is actively focused on a different horizon.

Whatever the cause, the shift in consciousness is a delightful welcome. Many times in the past its been a matter of just getting through each day without keeling over or ceasing to function, punctuated by the peaks of relief at fast-breaking and prayer, or the troughs of blinding headaches, irritability and catatonia. Given the busy household I manage, Ramadan is also about handling food anxieties, not just of others, but my own as well. Even that has shifted. Such concerns seem to have dropped away, without neglecting the important matter of feeding the troops.

Everything seems brighter, better, easier -  even with a 15 hour long fast. Less white noise, more inner silence. Less confusion, more inner clarity. Less gullibility in believing my own narrative, more delight in witnessing a vaster storyline unfold. Descending into self-obliteration in Salat seems easier when the weight of the self has been lifted and shrunk and parked I know not where. Dhikr travels faster than the speed of sound to take one to deep peace.
 
Inside a cavern has been scoured out. It is not the emptiness of hunger or thirst. It is akin to a vacuum, so silent and tranquil that the merest plop of a drop of water could be heard distinctly. This is the Cavern of No-Thought. No-thought as distinct from thoughtlessness. Even as my consciousness resides in this blissful zone, I am hardly acting as a vegetative mass! I am aware Syria burns - and it pains me. The Olympics are in full swing - and I pay occasional admiring heed to the athletes' prowess. Romney is playing President abroad - and my opinion would be unprintable. Local NGOs are working hard to attract zakat into their coffers so they can continue to do the job of shoring up civil society in this wobbly but lively nation - and I am trying to do my miniscule bit.

Yet...

Here in this Cavern of No-Thought dwells the light of Presence. Ineffable. All-Encompassing. Majestic and Beautiful. Beyond bloggable words, beyond fixed forms, a shape-shifting, bliss inducing basso profondo humming Huuuuuuuuuu.