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Reading poetry gives me the words to express the thoughts I've always had but never been able to express. It gives form to the haze of thoughts, ideas and feelings. To the repressed guilt and the dark memories. To the daydreams and the disturbing fantasies. It gives me a clear view of my mental terrain. I can discern the mountains of firmly held convictions, and canyons of my ignorance. Between them stretch the valleys and plains, everywhere my mind has ever traversed. This expanse of land is the territory of thoughts I inhabit. But there are other lands to travel to. Reading the words of others takes me to these distant places, but I can still make out the familar landmarks from my own terrain. Sometimes I can even see my home in the distance from the mountaintop of another author. Sometimes they have canyons where I have none, and vice versa. Overlaying all these maps together gives me a much higher resolultion of reality than just wandering alone in my own small corner of the collective human psyche.


When reading poetry and other literature, I've come to learn that the views and background of the author, even if diametrically oppsed to my own, do not affect the truth contained within their writings. Each human mind ultimately draws from the same aether of reality, shared human experience and the divinely breathed soul that each person has. Thinking backwards to this point, it becomes clear to see how their words describe reality, and if they are wrong, it can be seen how they strayed from the true path. This can only be done of course, if the reader themselves is reasonable grounded in understanding the true nature of reality i.e. the correct Islamic paradigm.


Once firmly rooted, all knowledge of the world is opened up to you. Instead of being at risk of becoming a blind ideologue, influenced and then controlled by powerfully communicated ideas, you can now cooly detach youself from the works of any author and weigh them up objectively. You have a golden filter that enables you to extract value out of anything, not just works of well written islamic literature. One of the many benefits of wider reading is how it can help reinforce certainity in Islamic doctrines. When a certain ideal or concept is argued for by someone outside of the Islamic paradigm, it demostrates the universality of the idea. It gives strength to the convicion that was previously based solely on accepting divine wisdom blindly rather than understanding it. This is especially true if the concept is argued for based on first principles, or has documented psycological, sociological or historical precedent. Of course, an important distinction must be made between using non-islamic works to demonstrate the wisdom behind an Islamic ruling, and on the other hand, looking to non-islamic sources for validation of an Islamic ruling. The former can only be done by one who is already firmly rooted in faith, whilst the latter can be destructive, as it makes the acceptance of an idea outside of Islam as the basis for it being correct.


Whilst one is still maturing and figuring out the world, it is essential to establish roots within Islamic doctrine and limit any other kind of influence. Beyond this stage, however, opening up to the full spectrum of human thought can greatly enrich the mind. It cannot simply be argued that works written by disbelievers in Islam have no worth, due to their existential ignorance. Some are closer, others further, from the truth, but all, as long as they are physically sound of mind, can conceptualise true and useful ideas. The journeys of converts to Islam is testament to the fact that half truths can lead to the Truth with a capital T.


An atheist may be affected by reading the Bible, and thus want to become closer to God. Along the way, he begins to question the nature of God, becoming disenchanted with the trinity, and yet still feeling attached to the figure of Jesus and the idea of a loving, all-powerful God. This leads him to Islam, which gives him exactly what he was looking for. If we wind back the clock on this story, we can see that the exposure to Christianity, a false religion, ultimately played a meaningful role in the person's journey to the truth.


Viewed through this lens, the struggle between good and evil, as described by the Quran, can be seen in places and times far removed from any direct Islamic influence. Whilst both sides of the struggle were not Muslim, the seperation of Church and state in Europe can be seen as a win for Satan, as it was a precursor to the nihilistic western decadence that is even affecting Muslims in their native lands today. The political commentators and public intellectuals arguing against the dissolution of traditional values and the global hedgemony of western nations are fighting for values that are true, even if they themselves haven't actualised these truths in their full conception by accepting Islam. This is not to make a perennialist argument for the truth in all ideologies, rather this is an observation that, since Islam is the oldest and only true religion, every other way of life is but a distorted version of it, to a lesser or greater degree. Islam could be studied forever, and the scholars of Islam could only write so much. The works of other nations gives us access to countless hours of human research and innovation that, whilst not grounded in abslute truth, can be used to make headway in furthering our understanding of Islam and reality.


I want to read as widely and as much as possible so that I can have the highest level of iman possible before I die. That is the true value of reading.

 
 
 
  • Jul 31, 2023

‘How far down does it go?’ she asks, her blonde hair hanging down over the edge of the ravine as she peers into the inky darknesss. One push. That’s all it would take. One push and the darkness would swallow her up. Forever.


I snap back to my senses. ‘I don’t know, pretty far I guess. They call it the Grand Canyon for a reason.’ I take a step back. ‘Don’t stand too close to the edge.’


She smiles back at me mischieviously, then starts flailing her arms as if losing her balance, her exaggerated expression forcing a chuckle out of me. She walks back to where I’m standing and stares into the horizon. The sun hasn’t fully set yet, but some stars are already visible in the darkening star. We stood there, quietly, at the brink of the end.


‘We should head back’ I say, turning to her.


Her eyes still fixed on the final moments of dusk, she shrugs ‘Yeah, ok’.



The darkness seems to have calmed us, and we silently walk back to the SUV parked on the trail. She buckles up in the passenger seat next to me and I start up the car. As I'm about to move off, she places her hand on mine, the one on the gear stick.


‘Hey’, she smiles, ‘I had a great day’.


Again, I see her tumble down the ravine to certain death. In my mind, she doesn’t even scream,


She’s too shocked.


I smile back, ‘Yeah, it was fun. And tiring. I can’t wait to get back to the hotel’.


She sits back in her seat and closes her eyes as the car starts winding down the trail. ‘Me too. I’m dying for a long shower’


Silence again, for a while. Dying. The word reverberates around my head.


Dying, dying, dead.


At some point she turns on the radio, but I tune it out into background noise. The canyon still looms on our right, the only thing seperating it from us is a thin wooden fence. We had taken a more obscure route, on her insistence, She wanted to avoid the throngs of tourists and have some alone time. And that’s just what we are right now. Alone.



The thought returns with a vengence. Just a slight turn of the wheel. An action that would take a split second. That’s all it would take. That’s all that’s stopping this rental car from plunging to the rocks below. The thin, wooden fence of my own sanity. The endless echo of eternity.

 
 
 
  • May 9, 2023

As royal heads rolled, parchments wet with inky prose,

man rose to claim sovereignty from God and chose

to rule over himself, himself to rule alone.

Surely it's better for all to decide

what is wrong and what is right.

If man's nature is good and

evil but an aberration.

There will be peace for generations.

Instead there's genocide and mass detention.

Puppet leaders and rigged elections.

Mass produced misery, hate and greed.

Poisoned lakes and burning trees.

Broadcasted lies of things getting better,

whilst the ballot box is as good as a shredder.

With a vote we can turn lead to gold.

The collective voice is right, or so we were told.

Man's heart is not pure, evil not an aberration,

but part of his design, passing through the generations

to now, where drone strikes can destroy

A town of thousands and leave it level.

Man tried to remove God from office

but forgot to remove the devil.

 
 
 

© 2023 by Rumi  

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