Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim
Nope, today I won't write about the complications of myself. I won't write about the absurdity of consumerism. I won't write about the Hadhrami blue skies. I won't write about the voices of the heart. I won't write about the chaotic effects of selfishness and greed. I won't write about the sufferings of innocent people. I won't write about the monkey-like habits of man. I won't write about the challenges of this world. I won't write about the potential of dreams. I won't write about ineffective systems. I won't write about what is but that which we hate, or what isn't but that which we hope for, or what has passed but that which we still can't understand.
Add but a few more things to that list, and we have just about everything in my mind right now. And I don't want to think about any of them deeply. I can't, really.
If I have to liken my way of thinking as I face this world to something tangible, it would be a brick faced with the prospect of fitting through a smaller circular opening. And yet somehow it "works."
In all the ick of this life, there is so much to be grateful for. In all the illusions of this world, there is sufficient evidence of our reality. And really, that's about all I can swallow right now. To know that life is not in vain, that this world is not a place of amusement, and that we dwell here for only a short time is a great comfort for me. I want as little of it as it wants of me. It's a mutual hate-hate relationship, and tensions are just a part of the package.
Allah is Al Karim, and His graces are grand. Thank you Allah.
Nope, today I won't write about the complications of myself. I won't write about the absurdity of consumerism. I won't write about the Hadhrami blue skies. I won't write about the voices of the heart. I won't write about the chaotic effects of selfishness and greed. I won't write about the sufferings of innocent people. I won't write about the monkey-like habits of man. I won't write about the challenges of this world. I won't write about the potential of dreams. I won't write about ineffective systems. I won't write about what is but that which we hate, or what isn't but that which we hope for, or what has passed but that which we still can't understand.
Add but a few more things to that list, and we have just about everything in my mind right now. And I don't want to think about any of them deeply. I can't, really.
If I have to liken my way of thinking as I face this world to something tangible, it would be a brick faced with the prospect of fitting through a smaller circular opening. And yet somehow it "works."
In all the ick of this life, there is so much to be grateful for. In all the illusions of this world, there is sufficient evidence of our reality. And really, that's about all I can swallow right now. To know that life is not in vain, that this world is not a place of amusement, and that we dwell here for only a short time is a great comfort for me. I want as little of it as it wants of me. It's a mutual hate-hate relationship, and tensions are just a part of the package.
Allah is Al Karim, and His graces are grand. Thank you Allah.
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