Poem - Presence

From your Presence I scooped
A cupful of balm that soothed
My heart and soul and mood
Nourishing me with spirit food

In your gentle Presence I swam
In cascading pools that ran
From tender to sweet and lamb
Soft, warm and cool, every gram

Swaddled in butter-silk love
Top to toe, below and above
Kid-smoothe, well-fitted, I've
Felt united as hand in glove

Absorbed by this sinuous dance
Immunized against happenstance
Banished from false distance
A state regained from Your glance.

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.

Pull-focus for the Answer

The sugary scent of petunias has given way to the sweet snowfall of neem-tree blossoms and now the chubby jasmine buds are yielding their 'Diorissimo-esque' perfume to the early morning and evening air. As spring has fast-tracked into summer over the last two weeks, my attention has been fully absorbed by the realities and necessities of the D word. Domestos. Not the bleach, but my father's favourite generic term for the Hydra-like looming presence of private family life. Creative juices and editorial peregrinations were diverted to red alert.

My husband Abbas and I  had several pull-focus moments in which everything within the line of vision  recedes except for what was right before us. Our attention was fully zoomed in on the present moment. Each moment leading to another meant we were riding on wave-crests until the sea of Domestos finally calmed down. Doubtless more whirlpools and sinkholes await, but jasminacious scents still infuse each day regardless.

There is probably no quicker way than to come into the present moment than to be yanked into it by emergencies. If the event is met with trust that Allah's mercy prevails in all situations, one is already freed to ride the waves rather than drown by the anchorage of past history and attachment to expectations. The apparent calamity becomes an opportunity, and the opportunity reinforces the trust, and with that comes a lightness in the quality of our beingness. In his teachings Shaykh Fadhlalla regularly expounds on the relationship between needs and means -  'A question or need invites the answer that was already there waiting for the call.' (Aphorism #101, 'Soundwaves')

So I say to myself in the pull-focus moment, 'Hello, hello! What have we here? Which tree do we have to shake in order to find the right fruit?' Hazrat Mariam (Mary, peace be upon her), hungry and hindered by a full belly swollen with her soon to be born son 'Isa (Jesus), was instructed to shake the palm tree at hand to release the life-sustenance she needed [19:22-28]. Action. And yet earlier, her uncle Hazrat Zakariyya (peace be upon him) had observed that fruits would appear by themselves in her humble room while she prayed [3:37]. Inaction. In the former she had to engage with dunya, to trigger off the chain of events to fulfill her need, while in the latter she was disengaged from worldly matters, and what she needed - nay, more than what she needed - manifested. Same person, different circumstances, needs equally fulfilled. Present and alive to the moment and the isharah or guidance.

Hazrat Zakariyya was so inspired by Mariam's tawajjuh or devotional fidelity to her Creator, it amplified his trust in and reliance (tawakkul) on Allah so as to invoke the fulfilment of his need. His famous supplication [3:38-41] to be blessed with a rightly guided heir to carry on his mission, even though his wife was old and barren, is often since invoked by Muslims seeking the seemingly impossible resolution to infertility. But beyond that this story indicates a reality that relates to the dynamic of conscious intention and action, the need for prayer and supplication in order to dislodge the fruit already ripened and waiting to fall.

The pull-focus moment helps to cut out extraneous considerations. Allowing it to act on our consciousness, guidance manifests, even if not the whole prescription. One step leads to another, to resolution, or solutions, or maybe even absolution. Hidden provision emerges. Manifold proofs of the constancy of Divine Presence and mercy tumble forth. Above all it is an unfolding process.

Indeed, the pre-existence of the answer is what begs the question. Knowing this is liberating. Feeling this is exhilarating.

Glossary:
dunya: this world of phenomena
isharah: subtle indication, implicit in signs
tawajjuh: focus and firm orientation towards Allah
tawakkul: trustful reliance on Allah

Cooking with Presence ©

The Two-fold Courtesy to Cooking

As a very young woman with a keen love of cooking and breaking bread with family and friends, a sheet of paper came into my possession on which was written something by Rumi’s cook. In it he spoke about the two-fold courtesy towards food. It struck a chord deep within me - for being an instinctive cook, it mirrored an awareness that I had unconsciously been bringing to my cooking -  and still do though now more consciously.

The first courtesy, he wrote, is the courtesy towards the food ingredients themselves, for through the process of preparing and cooking you are giving the raw materials the chance to become part of a higher order of being – to transform from the vegetable or animal to the human. And in Islamic cosmology there is no higher being created that inhabits this dimension, the world of the Seen. Notwithstanding the complaint voiced by the angels when Allah informs them that He is to create a steward on earth and they object, knowing full well the bloodshed and destruction we would wreak, the potential lies within each of us to become consciously godly, refined souls, contented and self-realized.

The second is the courtesy towards those for whom you are preparing the food, for you are helping to nourish and sustain them in this process of living life and awakening. Thus cooking can be considered a sacred act, a foundational alchemy for enabling humans to reach their full potential – after all,  'you are what you eat'. 

For years I had observed the meticulousness with which my Danish mother used to prepare our meals, organized, clean and tasty repasts of Danish, European and Iraqi dishes. I had participated in the abundant and loving chaos generated by my Arab paternal grandmother as she stuffed vegetables (Dolma) or made a delicious marga. 

After I was married I learned even more about Cooking with Presence from my mother-in-law. Khala-jan's Indian cuisine was the refined UP (Uttar Pradesh) variety, more Mughal and Persian influenced than the southern, more coco-nutty states. She would always approach her cooking in a state of wudu', incanting 'bismillahi 'r-rahmani 'r-rahim' over every  stir of the pot or addition of an ingredient, and would extract whole and powdered spices from her cupboard with the confidence and glee of a culinary sorcerer. Nothing would please her more than to have her food appreciated and lips licked with satiety, and indeed nothing still does so at the ripe old age of 83!

As an instinctive cook, I mostly allow the ingredients to 'speak' to me. They tell me what to do with them. Does anyone else converse with their food? I recall my grandmother good humouredly making kissing sounds at her pot of freshly made yoghurt, in the hopes of getting it to set well, always a gamble in cold weather. She'd then wrap it up in blankets and place it near the Aga or in a closet. The climate I live in now makes home-made yoghurt a foolproof enterprise. I don't so much rely on kiss-coaxing the lactobaccilli into a happy state of fermentation as on my housekeeper's wonderful trick of whipping in the starter with a whisk for a good few minutes before leaving it aside to set. This helps to break up the thick cream molecules of the fresh buffalo milk we get and reduces the creamy thickness of the crust, the mouthfeel of which I don't particularly like.

I love it when the experience of cooking becomes a meditative act. Surely this is how it is meant to be – not some daily drudgery. Losing yourself in the crunchy slicing of crisp Chinese Cabbage, inhaling the green scents of freshly chopped dill, coriander or mint, boiling chickpeas in anticipation of a pleasing softness suitable for hummous or chaat, working butter through flour to achieve a light pȃte sucrée as an honourable base for a  seasonal fruit tart. I love the comforting sauna humidity of a kitchen filled with the steamy exhalations of a simmering stock pot, the chocolaty aromas given off by Boston brownies when they are just done, the elevating perfumes of saffron or rosewater as they waft off rice or milk pudding. From the washing of the ingredients, to the prepping, to the actual cooking and finally the serving, it’s a delight to forget oneself in the very process. As I work with intention, ingredient and process, my self is set aside, a new mode of beingness arises that is alive, creative and fun. Sheer alchemy!

Naturally, it’s not always possible to have the luxury of conditions congenial to a nirvana ecstasy of aashpazi, but if that is how cooking is experienced on a regular basis, then one will never stray far from good results. Having cooked with presence, you can easily find your way back to that state,  like building a muscle and finding it ready to regain its tone after a little neglect. 

Now, after this purple paean to cooking, read the next blog for a simple soul-food recipe for an easy to prepare savoury snack that’s become awfully popular among my friends. You’ve been asking me for the recipe: check the next blogpost! Noosh-e Joon!

Glossary:

Dolma: vegetables like onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, onions, aubergines and young marrows excavated and stuffed with rice, herbs, meat, spices and other ingredients.

Marga: Iraqi word for stew or dish with gravy (MS Arabic: Marqah or maraq)

Wudu’: Islamic ritual ablution which consecrates one for prayer.

Bismillahi’r-rahmani’r-rahim: In the Name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful.

Hummous: ubiquitous chickpea paté, often made with the addition of tahini, sesame seed paste.

Chaat: Indo-Pak ‘salad’ of chickpeas, onions, tomatoes, coriander, green chillis and with dressing of tamarind and/or yoghurt.

Pȃte sucrée: Sweet pastry

Aashpazi: Persian for cooking.

Noosh-e Joon: Bon appétit.