Death’s Spectre
This is a ‘morbid’ post, but bare with me. It gets better at the end…
Our Consistent Friend
Ina Lillah wa’ina ilayhi raji’oon إنا لله وإنا إليه راجعون We belong to God and to Him we shall return. Now Ahmed Shah is in his grave, the angels drawing nigh. ‘O Servant, speak the name of He you called your Lord’ they cry. O Ahmed, say: Allah the One – He whom I praised…
Dear Narcissus
A few months ago I was invited to attend a spoken word gathering to fundraise for Syria. The crowd was came from all ages, race and religion, but it was striking to see how similar the poems were. One particular poem that struck me was one about Narcissus, a man from greek mythology who was led to a…
Amusing ourselves to death
This is perhaps one of the most striking passages I have read for a while. It describes the modern world with startling accuracy. In our fear of an increasingly authoritarian rule, we have allowed a far more dangerous vision to come true: heedlessness Below is the foreward of Neil Postman’s book “Amusing Ourselves to Death:…
Mortality
Last Sunday we received news of the passing of our dear uncle Imtiaz Ansari, may Allah have mercy on his soul. He was the kindest of men with the purest heart of all those I knew, embodying the highest of prophetic character. He exemplified the meaning of brotherhood in Islam, embracing anyone in the community with…
Honeycomb
Imam Ghazali tells a story of a man walking in the jungle. A roaring lion ran towards him and the man ran as fast as he could to escape from it. He noticed a well in front of him and he jumped inside hoping to escape from the lion. As he was falling inside the…
Death.
Death. Just another word. Devoid of any meaning in my heart. I hear it so often that it’s impact has diminished almost entirely. Child butchered. Man snipered. Wife widowed. All headlines of old stories buried in a fast moving world. In many ways I envy them, they’ve done their bit and paid the ultimate sacrifice…
In Remembrance of Death
I remember it well – It was a warm spring afternoon and a long journey up north from Damascus. Like most traditional arabian homes, my uncle’s house opened up to a lovely courtyard which branched off to separate rooms in the house. Seeking the shade, we sat under the only tree in the court yard, one which…
