Ambition

Have I done enough?
This question whips at my soul like the Sirocco
and leaves me restless and dissatisfied with my lot.

What is this restless ambition that plagues my soul?
Have I not done all that I have done for the Beloved?
And have I not been blessed with true friends and soulful labor?

Would I trade a humble and true treasure
for an empty dream of fame and wealth?
Am I a such a fool?

Winds pass.
I will stay planted like this palm and withstand them.
Allah, my Love, be merciful, and bring me water.

Silly Chatter

I pray a little here and a little there, all day long.
But most of my prayer is of little importance.
In fact, most of it is just chatter.

I sing silly songs to my Beloved,
gossip about the people I care about most,
and engage in inane pillow talk.

Do you think prayer must always be serious?
Do you think my time of communion with Allah is solemn?
Do you think I come before the Lord of Heaven with anything less than reverence?

Prayer is the silly chatter between friends.
I would rather risk offending the Beloved
than boring Him.

If I Had a Servant

If I had a servant,
I would command him to make my tea
and would sit in the shade and glory in the breeze.

If I had a servant,
she would keep the house clean
and my wife would have time to socialize with the other women of means.

If I had a servant,
he would carry my things to and from the madrasah,
leaving my hands empty for hugging and slapping at shoulders.

If I had a servant,
she would cook for us the most amazing meals,
which is more than my poor wife has ever done.

I thank Allah I do not have a servant,
For then I would be damned. And no servant,
no matter how loyal, is going to come and carry my soul out of hell.

You Must Move

Allah is like a hawk,
His eyes are drawn to motion.
If you don’t want Him to notice you, do nothing.

If, however, you crave His attention,
if you long for His caresses and His care,
you must move.

You must laugh like an idiot,
dance like a bridegroom,
and sing like a sparrow.

It isn’t piety that will make you irresistible to Allah,
it’s the irrepressible joy found
in simply living your life.

So sing loudly, dance wildly, speak bodly
love wantonly, give generously, pray sincerely
work hard, hug tight, kiss wet.

There’s nothing to be gained
from being small.
God is great—go and be great, too.

Vision

Oh, dear. I know that look.
Allah has come upon you.
Do come and sit down before you topple over and hurt someone.

Drink this tea.
Catch your breath.
And tell me what happened.

I remember when it last happened to me.
I was at the well, getting a drink of water.
And Allah fell upon me like a cat pounding from a roof top,
claws extended to clutch at my shoulder.

It was all I could do to remain upright.
My brain felt like it was on fire,
and I saw reflected in the well all of the worlds and their myriad creatures.

I was lucky I didn’t fall in.
And yet, in a way, I did fall in.
I fell into the mind of Allah, and I will never be the same.

It has happened before, don’t misunderstand.
But every time is different.
Every time you see something new that you did not see before.

And every time it illumines all that is shadow,
exposes everything that is a lie
and turns me once again to face Mecca in my heart.

I do not know why Allah does this to people
and you can never predict when it happens.
My advice is to see it as a blessing
rather than the uncomfortable imposition it feels like now.

But Najat does know one thing.
Once it has happened to you, you will sell everything
—even your soul—to make sure it happens again.

The Teacher's Wisdom

You come to me, and you call me “teacher.”
I make you tea and call you “friend.”
We with focused attention before Allah and we call it “prayer.”

Don’t look to me for answers. Don’t suppose for a minute
that I know what I’m doing, here. I don’t.
It isn’t my wisdom being spoken into the silence between us.

I open my mouth and the winds of heaven
move my lips, or they don’t.
When we are finished, we will be fortunate if we are both a little wiser.

I am not the teacher. I am the tea-maker.
Allah is the teacher.
You and I are both students, and always will be.

My love, if I ever get to the point where I say, “I can answer that”
please do not strike me dead.
But kindly persuade my wife to inform me that my teaching days are over.

For if I think I have any answers,
If I am foolish enough to believe that I know what I am doing
If I am ever arrogant enough to suppose that my own wisdom exceeds yours

then my usefulness in this world is at an end
and my time is better spent wetting myself and drooling into a towel
until the angel of sleep closes my eyes forever to this good life.

Najat is only skilled as a teacher
by knowing that his own wisdom is only slightly more valuable
than his excrement.

Gift

Allah’s embrace can end worlds or begin them.
Allah’s embrace can bring hope or despair.
Allah’s embrace can lead one
—kicking and screaming—to heaven or to hell.

Allah’s embrace can kindle resentment or affection.
Allah’s embrace can bring clarity or madness.
Allah’s embrace can snuff out your life or redeem it.

And the mystery of it is that these opposites
—life and death, sadness and joy, suffering and grace—
are always performed with one and the same act.

How you perceive it is largely determined
by the posture of your hand:
is it open to receive, or is it balled into a fist?

Najat knows life can be hard.
I’ve seen my share of blessings wrapped in pain.
I, too, struggle to behold all that Allah gives as a gift.