Ali Husni

Instinct and Choices

2011-08-04T20:52:00.000-07:00

I was in Busro, Syria one time with my friends. We visited the great colosseum. It's actually the place where 'Gladiator' was filmed. And when I was in the middle of the ring, I was speechless that I can't believe my own eyes I was there. This thing existed even before the time of Prophet Muhammad. And I believe prophet Muhammad must have come by here once, he used to travel and do business in Syria even before he was chosen as a prophet. And near the colosseum, there's a church where the prophet met a pope, and at that time the pope foretold Muhammad was gona be a prophet. At that moment everything was so real for me. All the ruins of the city and all that. I could see the old roman empire came into life before me.

I miss Syria.

"All our progress is an unfolding, like a vegetable bud. You have first an instinct, then an opinion, then a knowledge as the plant has root, bud, and fruit. Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason."

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

"If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is a compromise."

Robert Fritz

'The Way of Harmony' - A Short Film

2011-01-30T21:07:00.000-08:00

"If God really is Almighty loving, why are things so hard to come by for me?" That was a silent cry of a mute named Ali, who was searching for a path that everybody is searching to understand what life is. 'The Way of Harmony', a short film on self-searching, arts, and life. An irresistible must-see.

The Way Of Harmony, Aikido (Short Film) from UmarMita on Vimeo.

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 8: A Visit to the Great Umayyad Mosque)

2011-01-25T00:43:00.001-08:00

Three boys are ready to go

12th May 2010

This was the first day for us to conquer Syria. After the morning walk, we had our first breakfast. Can’t remember exactly what did we have for that very first breakfast. Was it ‘maggi goreng’? maybe. Then we prepared ourselves for our first outing to see some amazing places and people. We decided to go by foot to our destination. It had taken some 15 minutes to reach the great mosque. But for us the first timers, except for Sufian and Jiju, we felt it was longer than that. We walked on the pedestrian next to a main road consisting lots of cars and other transports. While walking, I noticed that the Syrians drive their cars so fast and so furiously. The honks of the cars were crying here and there, now and then. I said “my God!” These people really don’t have a good system on the road. But what surprised me was that, from my observation over the two-month period there, I didn’t see any single accident happened before my eyes. But the opposite is happening in Malaysia. You know what I mean right. We have a good system, but still, the number of accidents is uncountable to say the least. On our way I also looked at the people, especially women. Hey, don’t be negative okay. I ain’t doin nutin wrong. Just observing. My friends said that Syrian women are the prettiest in the world. When I kept observing, I guessed the statement was true. Syrian women do look pretty. Hot I should say. I don’t lie. They are, to the point that every time I see one, I need to quickly lower my gaze and say a ‘salawat’ to bring back my consciousness. But don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with them as it’s almost impossible for Malays to have a Syrian wife. Besides, they don’t eat Tom Yam like I do. So I don’t give a damn.

Old jami' every where

Okay, coming back to our walk. We passed through a market street named ‘Suq Sarijeh’. Here, they sold stuffs used in kitchen. This was the place where we came and by ingredients to cook in the future. Unfortunately I didn’t even think to take pictures of the street. It could’ve been nice to some pics of it. On our way, we saw so many jami’ on our left and right, with different old school designs. Passing Suq Sarijeh, then a long row of shops, finally we were nearing Umayyad mosque or Jami’ Umawi. But not before we encountered another long market street. This time, it was even bigger and more shops selling all kinds of goods that not only the Syrians would by, but of course the travelers like us would feel irresistible to by. The market was called ‘Suq Hamidiyah’, but we just always shortened it as ‘Hamidi’. The street in the middle of two rows of shops where people walked was quite large in width. But the people were extremely packed that we needed to walk close to each other for fear of lost. Above, there was an arc roof. The length of the Suq Hamidi street was about 500 metres I guessed. And that’s not all. At some points of the two rows of shops, there were many junctions that lead to other long and narrow market streets. This was hell! The first timer would surely get lost walking alone in this crowded market. From the historical aspect, judging from the stones used on the street stepped by people’s feet, I could imagine all the way back the time when Khalifah Arrashidun ruled more than half of the world and Damascus as the centre. I believed that these kind of stones on this street were a characteristic of Roman architecture before the Middle Ages when one of their rulers was Alexander the Great. So eventually what could be seen today was a cross design between east and west. Before we went deeper through the street, we went to a money changer stall on our right. Sufian and Jiju did the bargain. In Syria, they use ‘Leirah’ currency, or Syrian Pound. The rate was around 50 leirah equaled to RM3.

The long way of Suq Hamidiyah

One of the junctions lead to this chocolate street

Sufian changing our dollars and euros

Shops selling Jilabiyah for men and women

Quran for hantaran and presents

Actually we entered Suq Hamidi through the back gate, so now we had passed the front gate. In front of it, stood a ruin of the Jupiter temple. The arc looked old. It must have been built since the Romans epoch I thought. And finally, right before us after coming out of the Suq, the great Jami’ Umawi was visible. We could only see a long and tall wall made of cubic stones. At the centre of it was a large door, and there were so many people struggling to go in and out of it. And from far,through the door, I could see the courtyard in the middle of the jami’.

The front gate of Suq Hamidiyah

The wall of Jami' Umawi

The main entrance

Before we entered, we took off our shoes and brought along with us. After managed to pass the crowd inside near the door, at last! The full scenery of the open space of the jami’ really flashed before us for the first time! Before I came in, I had been wondering how does the jami’ look like? And now I remembered that I’d seen this place before. It was during a visit to Islamic Art Museum in Malaysia that I saw a model of this mosque. And now, I couldn’t believe my eyes that I was stepping my feet in this jami’. Cool! All praise be to God. I didn’t notice that my mouth was gapping seeing this. The design was awesome. It looked rather unique, a mix of Roman before the Islamic era and Arabic style after the arrival of Islam. I swear to God you should see this. There were so many tall, giant columns. They supported walls with interval arcs above there. And on them were decorated with pictures of trees, old houses and rivers. What stunned me was that the pictures were not painted, but were made of small pieces of, I don’t know what to call it, mosaic I guessed. But there were really indescribable. It shows how the people at that particular time whole-heartedly appreciate art. Maybe I should brief you a little. This jami’ was initiated by Khalid Ibn Walid in 707 CE, and the site was originally a Christian Cathedral of St. John. By 715, the jami’ was complete and sadly, Khalid Ibn Walid died the same year. May God bless his soul, amin.
To the west (the entering door as south), there was an old tall minaret. It looked so mysterious because my friend said that in the end of the day, Jesus would come down on that minaret. Should I or shouldn’t I believe it? Whatever, Jesus would surely come. So it’s not a big problem.

The Dome of Damascus' Treasury

Jesus ain't a son of God bro...

The pictures on the wall were deliberately made of small pieces of barada mosaic

Anip at the ablution stream

It’s noon, so the air was getting warmer. Before we entered the main prayer hall, Sufian lead us into the chamber of a dead written above the entrance ‘Raks Saiyidina Husin’ meaning the head of Saidina Husin. Well, I’m not gona tell anything about this guy called Husin coz I don’t even know his story and how did it happen that only his head was inside the chamber. So, another rule of thumb before you travel, do some research! Inside, I was surprised to see so many people. The most obviously visible were women covered in dark cloths from heads to toes accept for their faces. So then I knew that these people in the chamber were mostly Shias. The space was small and crowded, so it took quite a long time to reach the Maqam of Saidina Husin. From far, we heard a voice of a man caroling melancholic verses of prayer so loudly. I wonder what was the sound? And later when we reached the Maqam, we saw some people sitting near the Maqam, crying. The one doing the howling was among the group. I said to myself, “what on earth are they doing?” all the people surrounding him were crying and heaving as well. The guy seemed to ask and beg something from the Maqam. As if pleading from God! And the women surrounding the Maqam were wiping the box of the Maqam with a cloth while crying. What the fish! Okay, that’s enough for this chamber. We better go out. Didn’t want to see the ghost of Saidina Husin conjuring up in the chamber. Let’s go!!!

Written on the plate, 'The grave of the head of Saidina Husin'

Under this cover must be the head of Saidina Husin. Alfatihah...

let bygone be bygone bro...

In front of the Maqam

Then we were in the main prayer hall. The inner design was cool too! There were lots of giant columns, and these must have survived since the Roman Empire. One day in the two months, I came to the jami’ for a talaqi with a sheikh (A kind of lecture in the jami’), I saw that the night scenery of Jami Umawi was even cooler, especially in the open space. I wonder when Imam Ghazali was writing his books on the soul, he finished them up in this great mosque. I just can’t stop wondering the Islamic golden history when I was in the jami’. Everything looked so real before me.

The majestic view of the inner designs and the splendid night view

It’s time to go back home. Before leaving through Suq Hamidi, from the main door of the jami’, we saw on our left, flocks of pigeons gathering on the ground to feed their foods. We were like small boys, running towards the pigeons to scare the birds and let them fly in a huge flock. But it’s hard to have a nice shot if you just have a digital camera with you. So, the golden rule, get the best camera while traveling. Preferably the DSLR. While playing the scare-and-catch, all of a sudden a voice of a guy yelled at me to stop doing it. What the *************. It was a little embarrassing but I don’t give a damn. Okay, I’ll say no more. O yes, before I forget, on our way going back through Suq Hamidi, we stopped by a shop for ice cream, and every first taste of experience tasted really good.

What would the next post be? Mmm… we’ll see. Thanks for reading folks.

Yesterday I lived, today I die, and tomorrow’s the resurrection. Time, who has time, every second is precious
I’m in the darkful
Looking for the sun to rise
Tears running down my eyes
Thinking bout the one
Thinking bout my life
Thinking bout my death
Know I’m getting closing with every breath
I know It could be over but I’m still taking steps
Until there’s non left
Until I’m defeated
I know some feel cheated
But in this race
Quicking your pace, live your life
You’re only given the taste of this place
And that’s life
So when my eyes roll back
My body died
Please know that my tears have dried
So don’t cry
Say goodbye to your prayers
And let the memories get you to the years.

[Inevitable Journey – Jabbar and Ali]

The Journey of a Sufi (part 7: The First Morning Walk)

2011-01-21T18:26:00.000-08:00

Hi guys, I’m still here writing. I wanted to say sorry to those who’ve been following my posts because there’s been a week pause to my writing. I got stuffs to be done. I want you to know that a short film entitled ‘The Way of Harmony’ would be published soon. We are working on the final part of it. The short film is about self-searching. It’s a collaboration project between some IIUM Aikido Club members and The One Academy students, one of them is my brother. So, don’t forget to check it out when it’s ready soon.

Okay let’s get down to business again. Where was I in the last post?, my first prayer in Syria right? So today I’ll be narrating about the first morning in Syria. Let’s go even before the sun rose. The time of Fajr prayer. Guess what time do Syrians pray fajr during the season? To my surprise, they pray fajr as early as four o’clock man! Know why? Because during spring and summer, the night is short compared to the day. And in during winter season, what happens is the opposite. The day is shorter. They would pray fajr at 6 am and lastly pray isyak at 6 pm. I believe it would be fun living in Syria during winter. The night before was quite cold for all of us that we needed to wear sweater and pull a blanket. And to take an ablution before praying was really a cold pain. The water was so freezing to frost! I was shivering coming out from the bathroom.

The typical old narrow streets in Dimashq

So after the fajr prayer, we went back home and recited some verses from the Quran. In Malaysia it’s nearly my habit to stare at the sunrise and be washed by the first ray of the sun. I find it more spiritual. And this is what I did during the two months there. After the recitation, I asked my friends if they’d like to join. Anip and Abu said yes, and we changed and grabbed our sweaters. When we were outside, the sky was about to become bruise-coloured and it’s only about 5 in the morning! You can’t see this scene in Malaysia! The air was cold. We walked with marvel. We took the old narrow streets, walking down between two walls. Every now and then we saw doors at the walls. From outside, only gray walls could be seen. But if you go in, you might see a house with a porch in the middle of it decorated with a beautiful garden and a fountain.

"Shelounek ente?" an'ammi language would mean sth like "hey, wassup dude!"

Another thing is that we couldn’t stop wondering that there were so many jami’ along the streets, big and small. On our way we kept telling each other, “Hey, there’s another mosque”. Can you imagine how many jami’ they have? I just can’t believe my eyes. Coming out of the narrow street, we met a road with a line of shops, but most of them were still closed. We have no idea where we were at that time. It’s okay, no worry as we walked in three. We’ll sort out later how to return home. We continued strolling down the line of shops. Most of the shops were sweet shops. They called this street ‘Suq Halawiyat’ meaning Sweets Market.

The Suq Halawiyat street

Easy girl... Ain't nobody gonna hurt you.

Then, suddenly we bumped into a horse-drawn wagon at the side of the road. At the back of it there were oranges, and a guy is yelling something to sell the oranges. In Dimashq, there were many of these carts, selling fruits mostly. But at that particular time, we were so amazed to see one that we took pictures with the horse. Luckily the horse did nothing to us when the camera flashed white lights.

'...every breath we take, ever cup of tea, the way of the waorrior...' (The Last Samurai)

On our way searching for the way back home, we passed by a jami’ and so surprisingly, we met a Malay guy. Again I forgot the name. He was a very friendly person even at the first meet. Knowing that we’ve just arrived the day before, he invited us to his house nearby. What a great experience of first morning walk! And so we went to his house. There, we met his housemate. We were served with Arab tea, familiar among the Malaysians there to call it ‘shai’. It’s a norm in Syria to drink shai in a very leisure mode. This is one of the things that I won’t forget, drinking shai served in small cups. And that was our first morning walk in Syria. Thanks for those reading this post. InsyaAllah the next coming post would be about all the six of us visiting the great Umayyad Mosque or ‘Jami’ Umawi’ which was once a church. And it was hell a great mosque!

Pigeons in the sky

Anip was asking for the direction. His Arabic knowledge was good.

School kids waiting for school bus

A typical bus stand in Dimashq

Is that oranges?

Every morning I talk to the sun and its friends, the earth and sky.
What makes you guys ceaselessly without any break to do what you do every night and day since your first day of creation?
And I heard their voices whispering, “Because we belong to our Lord”.

-ali-

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 6: The First prayer in Syria)

2011-01-16T00:11:00.000-08:00

I didn’t remember well whether I’d taken a bath or not before going to a nearby mosque for the first prayer in Syria. I guess I didn’t. It might sound funny to you but not to me. Because I could clearly remember how dry the weather there was. Plus the cold air which made our bodies don’t feel the slightest sticky sweat. So I put on my ‘baju melayu’ with an inner shirt and a pair of slack trousers. My cousin told me back before our arrival in Syria that the Syrians don’t wear ‘kain pelekat’ to go to pray at the jami’. Wanna know why? Well, if you wear kain pelekat there, people would think that you are after a course of making love with your wife. So obviously all eyes would be on you. Haha! What a funny fact about culture. Not to mention, I moisturized my lips with lipstick as well. ‘Does man use lipstick?’ you might ask. The answer is ‘Yes!’. Well, it’s still the first day, so I still looked forward for the coming days for my lips to dry and crack. And off we went to the mosque called ‘Jami’ Mansur’. People there used the word ‘jami’’ and not ‘masjid’ for mosque.

Oh yes, suddenly I remember something. It happened to be that my friends walked so fast in front of me till I couldn’t catch up with them, and suddenly I’d lost them. This’s what happened to a slow-pace person like me. What to do, I saw a middle-age person passed by me, so I asked him the direction to the jami’ in Arabic. I said “Aina masjid?”(where’s the mosque?), and with a gesture, he asked me to follow him. And this guy also walked so fast that later when the building of the jami’ was visible that I knew he too was going to the same place to pray. On my way, I caught glimpse of the jami’. The size of it was medium. A part of the architecture of the jami’ was a minaret close to it, decorated with green ligts. In fact, after some time, I discovered that all of the jami’ in Dimashq have minarets with green lights. This creates a wonderful scene especially if you look at the scenery of the whole Dimashq by night from the top of a mountain. Don’t worry, we’ll come to this part later.

Jami' Mansur with its green-light minaret

The inner design of Jami' Mansur

Climbing up a few steps of stairs, I watched people slipping off their shoes and sandals, and brought with them in. I did the same as they did. And when I entered the jami’, then that I learnt that everybody put their sandals in a shoe rack provided at the back of the prayer hall. How nice! In fact, this one also, I found out later that in every jami’ in Dimashq, there must be shoe racks at the back of its prayer hall and people really made use of it. Then we prayed. There’re not much differences about the way they prayed compared to the Muslims in Malaysia. But one thing I noticed was that the recitation in the prayer was really a good one especially the pronunciation of every single letter or ‘tajwid’. After some period of time, I found out that Syria is the most suitable place to come and learn tajwid. And if you are more inclined towards learning the melodies of Quranic recitation, Egypt is a more preferable land. Later we’ll come to the part where me and my friends became students to a Sheikh of Tadarrus or Quranic recitation.

Every time my forehead touched the ground, there’s a silent whisper within me;

“God, I don’t know why I am here.
I don’t know what to find here.
I don’t know whom would I meet here.
I don’t know anything about my destiny.
But You know and You brought me here.
So carry my soul in the bubble afloat by the breeze to the land you’d wanted it to be.”

-ali-

The journey of a Sufi (Part 5: Our new home)

2011-01-13T02:06:00.000-08:00

We boarded a bus to our new house in Damascus, and later I learnt that the Arabic word for the capital of Syria is called ‘Dimashq’. And from time to time I got fond of this word, and so allow me to use it every now and then in my whole story. In the bus, I sat next to Sufian, one of the two of the earlier-comers of the group. Among us, he was the most muscular and a well-built guy. He’s a year or two older than me, forgive me for the fact that I’m a forgetful person. On our way to Dimashq, I spent most of the minutes looking at the outside view through the side window rather than talking. It’s normal I guessed, being a first timer in a totally different land with a self-searching heart within.

The unique public transports on the road

While taking in the looks from the outside, I thought to myself, ‘What a country!’. The first thing that amazed me was the buildings there. All were almost with the same design; rectangular in shape, and gray-brownish in color. I could say most of them were blocks of building and no bungalow especially in the city area. The Syrian people lived in apartments. But there were hardly tall skyscrapers to be found in Dimashq. My first opinion was that Syrian people are kind of living a moderate life. From a chat with Sufian I found out that technology has just entered Syria since the past five years. No wonder when seeing the public transports used on the roads in the town. Lots of them were vans and taxis. I could also see busses green in color with LED display showing their destinations, all of them seemed to me like new busses. And Sufian said it’s true, because the busses have just entered Syria around two to three months before.

The boxes of apartments

It took about half an hour to reach Dimashq by bus. We were dropped off at a pedestrian next to a road I don’t know where. The four of us were zero especially me, so we let the three of our first-arrived friends lead us. By the way, I forgot to mention that Sufian once came to Syria around two years back with a different group also from UIA. So no doubt you could see him with the other two waving for taxis and at times normally talk the taxi drivers into sending us together with tons of our luggage to our house. After their struggle, Alhamdulillah we managed to get two taxis. On our way to the house, being amazed by the first-time experience, I took pictures of the buildings and the streets through the taxi side window while Sufian did the talking with the taxi driver. In the back, I sat with Hafiz and Abu. We were so excited with the conversation. Sometimes I heard Hafiz tried to speak one or two simple sentences in Arabic.

“kaifahaluka?”which means how are you.
“Alhamdulillah” the driver answered.
“Ismi Hafiz” Hafiz introduced himself.

That was a brave start of him to learn Arabic. I being who I am, preferred listening than talking. I knew, as a language learner, you won’t be able to speak a language if you don’t listen.

It only took approximately 10 minutes to reach our house. But it always makes us bewildered how a first time experience makes time feel quite long. The late afternoon sun was still visible when we reached our new house. It’s situated in a neighborhood of apartments. Hey, guess what, it’s an underground house! I believed it’s hard to find such an experience living in an underground house in Malaysia. The house was not large in size, quite small. With two bedrooms and three people for each room. The kitchen, toilet and bathroom were all small size. In the living room, there were two long cushions and a coffee table, and a refrigerator. Both of the bedrooms were side by side, and next to these rooms were an open place with no roof called ‘Sahah’. Sunlight came washing from above it.

The steps to our underground living

Jiju and Abu in the living room

Our tiny little kitchen

Everything was for us complete except for one thing which I guess you know. We don’t have a TV! And another thing, the house was also unequipped with ceiling fans, be it our bedrooms or in the living room. Strange enough, an underground house stabilizes the temperature. Meaning to say that when it’s cold outside, the inside would be warm. And when it’s hot outside, the heat is lesser in the house. Despite the size and the lack of equipments of the house, all of us were grateful to be given a place to live.
Like always, the silent cry within me whining.

‘Before all these things happen I never thought I would be here. I never thought that before I was born and more earlier than that, before the world and the universe is created, God has written that me stepping my foot here had long be my fate. It was all already written. So God, You know while I don’t know, show me the way that you wanted to show me. The way that you see it, but I can’t see it.’

Proud to be malaysian

The 'hingusan' kid

The cold breeze was waving outside as if calling me to take a stroll and see new things. So Abu and I decided to go out and have a walk before the night embrace the whole Dimashq. During our walk, I couldn’t believe my eyes looking up at the plain serene blue sky. There was not any single roll of white clouds. It’s quite strange because the sky in Malaysia is always spotted by rolls of white cotton clouds. Furthering down the hood street, we found quite a number of Malaysia-made car. The most visible were Proton Waja, Gen-2 and Perodua kelisa. We can’t help but be proud and grateful to be Malaysians. Returning home, we bumped into a kid who tried to make a conversation with us. I thought to myself, ‘This kid is still a kid, but wow, he speaks damn good, like a grown-up I should say. Unfortunately we hardly understand a thing of what he said because he spoke ‘ammi (local dialect). From his gesture I guessed he wanted to help us taking our picture as he’s pointing at my camera.

We hurried inside to prepare for the night prayer at the mosque nearby. Yes, the next post would be about it.

-ali-

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 4: More Pics)

2011-01-12T01:42:00.000-08:00

High tea time

Me and Abu in our room

Screw the juice!

Anip, the children-fond guy

Flowers blossoming at Kuwait Airport.

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 4: The First Breath of Spring)

2011-01-09T00:22:00.000-08:00

Upon arriving at Syria Airport

We were airborne for 12 hours. We could hardly sleep during the flight that night as the space between us and the front seats was quite close. The four of us were seated in the middle row of the plane. I had wished we got the seats next to the windows. But never mind, thinking it was my first flight to oversea made me feel glad enough. Before the take-off, I had said my prayer asking God for a safe journey. You know, there’s always the feeling of something bad is going to happen every time we travel. When I ride a bus for instance, I would think after I wake up from a sleep I would see a totally different world. This foreseeing of something accidental is going to happen makes me always remember to whom I’m gonna return and I ask God to forgive my past sins if it were to be my last moment.

But Alhamdulillah, when I opened my eyes we were already reaching Kuwait airport for the transit. It was around 9am at that time. Actually, we had a problem before, trying to figure out what time to pray Fajr. My cousin said we just do the ‘prayer that meant to respect the time’. It was my first time hearing such prayer. Maybe it’s done by people in a journey when they are not sure about the time to pray I guessed. Well, that’s what happened when you take your religion for granted. So remember the rule of thumb before traveling, learn about time and praying okay. The transit was scheduled for around 5-6 hours, so we got a plenty of time on the land before we continued our flying to our main destination. That didn’t bother us because, yeah, we got ‘a room with a view’ in a hotel! Not only a room, but two! But not before they served us with a lunch of Arabic rice (I’m not sure about the name). It was mouth watering!!

After taking a nap, we were ready for another flight. I forgot the time, but it was still afternoon. To cut it short, let me tell you straight to when we’ve arrived at Syria airport. In Syria, if you tell people you are there to study, then you are probably in a bad luck. It’s even harder now to enter Syria through the airport. So when it was time for us to line up and have our passport stamped, we prayed so hard that we could enter without the officer’s second-guess. To make an excuse, I said to the officer I was there for a vacation. The moment when we were allowed to passed through it, we know firsthand that the four of us were the chosen ones. To enter Syria, the land where the Prophet (peace be upon him) had once come to trade, was really a blessing.

Finally, among the crowds we could see the two of our friends that I told you had already arrived in Syria earlier before us. They were with another person who was new to us. And when we stepped our feet outside the airport building, I could feel the chill breeze of the end of spring. The ray of the sun was sharp and the air was dry as for the low humidity there, unlike Malaysia where we feel the moisture around us. And that was the first time in my life to breathe the air of spring.

Wanna know more about our new home in Syria, wait for the next part to come.

-ali-

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 3: The Day to Fly)

2011-01-03T23:22:00.000-08:00

From left: Hanif, me, Hafiz and Abu nazim before take off

10th May 2010

There were four persons including me all together who would fly to Syria on that day. Another two were already in Syria, they had flown a week earlier. I didn’t even know them except that I know they were my cousin’s friends. All of us agreed we would meet at KLIA. From UIA I wasn’t sent to the airport by my family, but by my old roommates named Mansur together with his friends by car. I had said my goodbye to my family few days earlier before taking a bus to KL. And I remembered nothing emotional happened that night, except for deep hugs and brave smiles from each one of my family members especially from my umi. It may look peculiar to you, but this is what characterizes my family: A bunch of members with Samurai soul within. We never show or express to each other directly that we love each other. It’s complicated to define this feeling, but it’s there.

Okay coming back to the story. On our way in the car, a friend of Mansur I forgot his name, reminded me on my intention of going to Syria. Telling me that the sincerity of intention is of utmost important, for it determines what I would gain from there. This had certainly been playing in my mind even before the day of departure. I always asked myself, ‘What do I go to Syria for? I can’t be going there to learn Arabic language per se for I loathe it. So what is it the switch that struck me like a revelation from God?’ I was in a confused state thinking about this. I was so lost in finding my real purpose till I became empty. A feeling that I have no power whatsoever to know and control what’s beyond the present, and this feeling lead me to surrender my life to God whom I believed had flung on me the intuition asking me to fly to Syria. And from there on, I ceaselessly told myself ‘My purpose is to find God’s guidance, God’s word’. Okay enough for the internal part.

Reaching at KLIA, I met new friends that would be joining me in the trip. One of them was Hanif, a person that after a period of time I discerned had with him a bright smile and a clear heart. Then I noticed that I’d met him in UIA several times. Another person is Abu Nazim. I would call him a boy because he was still at that time a matriculation student. All of the three had families to say their last goodbye at the airport except for me. But I got no problem with that. I forgot the time of our flight. I guessed it’s around midnight.

I want to go back to my statement of being empty up there. As a martial artist, now that I know how the Samurai feels when being surrounded by a circle of enemies. He doesn’t know what to do for he doesn’t know who is first going to move a muscle. But he knows one thing; that his fate is in the hand of his Creator, that He’s the one has written the time of his birth and his death. So knowing this, the Samurai shuts off his mind, empties it, surrenders and let God alone drive his intuition to any direction he should move and cut. And after all was done, he himself cannot even discern how he moved to make all the heads of the enemies separated from their bodies. And that is ‘No Mind’.

The four boys flee that night on Kuwait Airways. Don’t miss the next part.

-ali-

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 2: The Light Touch of Breeze)

2011-01-02T19:48:00.000-08:00

Me & my cousin in front of Jami' Umawi Saghir in Hama, Syria

Remember I told you about the instinct that struck me telling me to choose the road to Syria? Okay let me start from there and how it all happened.

I have a cousin named Hafiz (above picture) studying in UIA, and one day during the mid-sem break, he and his mother came to my house in Perlis to pay a visit. He informed me and my parents that he would go and study Arabic language in Syria. That’s not all, he also eagerly invited me to come with him. I thought it was just a joke. But looking into his eyes, I could sense it was for real. At that time, as I told you, middle-east countries were hardly my choice of travel route. I would rather go to Japan acquiring skill of Japanese language and Aikido. I had always had dispute with my umi on this, where she having a strong faith, would impose a condition that requires me to go and study Arabic and religion in the middle-east if ever I wanted to go to Japan. Like I was the truth and she ‘s the evil, I always didn’t meet her in the eye and said no. So coming back to my cousin’s invitation, I politely said to him that I wasn’t interested. That didn’t hurt him because his purpose visiting me was to ask for help for some donation to at least relief his burden.

So time passed by and reached the semester break and I was home once again. This was the moment, when the revelation came down on me. It was when performing night prayer that I felt the hatred concerning middle-east perished suddenly. My heart had softened a bit and I thought I should give it a try. I told myself this may be a guidance from God that He wanted to show me to the right path. So soon after, I decided to tell my umi and ask her whether she would allow me to go to Syria or not. To my surprise, her eyes shining and said ‘Of course you can, I would be happy if you do so’.

So what I wanted to say is that, a mother is like an angel sent down by God and what she says or order you to do is like the word of Him. So if you just empty your mind and do as she says, you’re just on the right track while you don’t notice it. My umi sacrificed a sum of lots of money to pay for my journey though it’s just for a period of two months. And I hope that the tiny little changes in me that I brought back home are worth what she had paid for. May God make her a dweller of Heaven in the Hereafter.

It’s a wonder when we think about how the heart can abruptly switch from hatred to love, and from anger to rest, without our consent. To give an analogy, it’s like a traveler stumbling in the middle of a desert feeling extremely exhausted for the heat, but suddenly the land before his eyes gradually falls to see a steep canyon down bellow and he’s now standing with awe of seeing such a beautiful scenery. And lightly breeze starts touching his whole body and embraces him till it penetrates into his heart and consoles it.

So I’d like to thank my cousin for the ceaseless invitation. May God place him with the righteous men.

-ali-

The Journey of a Sufi (Part 1)

2010-12-29T11:25:00.000-08:00

It's been months or maybe more than a year that I haven't written anything on my blog. So here I am, with a pen in hand. Carrying a hope that this would be a charity, a good deed to be presented before my Lord when He summons me to return Home. So that I could look Him in the eye, because I've told Him the truth. And that the thruth is that I've lavished something on others what he's lavished on me. And that 'something' is my journey to Syria.

Thank God after about five-month period of returning from Syria, at last I got the mood to share something from the journey. I don't know why I ought to name the title of my story "The Journey of a Sufi". Perhaps because it all started from within my soul, and tasawwuf is all about the soul. Being in middle-east countries wasn't my dream at all. In fact I loathed it. But suddenly, I don't know, out of nowhere, I felt as if the same angel that breathed a soul in my body with God's will when I was still in my umi's womb, that very same angel moved my heart and steered it to take the path that leads to Syria.

Let me make it clear that I'm not and don't want to be called a 'Sufi' okay. The word is just to give an overall picture of the journey which for me, a self-searching kind of journey. To search my self as well as to know and to answer the Wh questions on God, which at the end of the story I discern that a person if he 'sees' himself, he will 'see' God.
Another thing is that a sufi always engages in a deep thought. So that's another reason for me to picked the word, as during the one-month-and-a-week's journey, I was most of the time engaged in deep thought, kept silent, turned my ears on listening, and pondered upon seeing everything.

Being in Syria also made me feel like I was learning Aikido. I mean the spiritual side of it. I remember from what I read in Hakim Sensei's article on Aikido which he says that Aikido or The Way of Harmony is a martial art of sufi. I can't help believing in that because everytime I think about the philosophy of Aikido, I would finaly relate it to life, universe, religion, and the one and only, the sole God most high. Just like when I was in Syria.

It may take months to finish the story telling. This entry would at least be the umbrella of what I feel on the whole great journey there. So wait for the next post with patience.

-ali-

I'm Home

2009-05-01T08:11:00.000-07:00

In da midst of da ugly
place, where da smoke is fuggy, halt me
in ma nostrils, & ma brain get stuffy,
smugly, people tryna bugger me,
UGH!!!

But;
Now I'm glad I'm home,
Looking at the green fields & green leaves
& the air that I breath
I feel free!!!
As I feel the wind blows
& the trees go with the flow,
I see the leaves relish
& sing a song of wish
& shout a sound of swish,
I close my eyes
praising Allah most High
I look at the blue sky
& I see a bird flies,
from the bird's eyes I visualize;
Against the wind,
I whirr & wave my wings
againts the wind,
I sway & weave.

So now I'm glad I'm home,
It's like looking at the twilight;
When the golden sun bows,
the golden lines of the clouds
allow me to say wow.
When the sky is dark by nightfall,
the millions of stars & the moon are
shining & blinking at far
they gaze at me & say "Allah ain't small"
& they cure my scars.

& now I'm glad I'm home,
Coz the smile of the people
is like the mango here in April.

So I'm glad I'm home,

I'm glad I'm home.

Ali
(1/5/09)

Happy Birthday

2009-05-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

I dedicate this rhyme to my brother for his 19th birthday. This was written last year. It's just an excerpt from the long one.

I see everything in this world is working
for each other in a flow,
After the leaves fall
here comes the snow,
After the earth is wet by the rain
you can see the rainbow,
The trees are glad coz they can grow,
& give fruits for the animals to swallow,
& the animals are for the human to eat
for today & tomorrow,
So we are for what?
The answer is
I think you know,
For God
We come & go.

Happy birthday, the most mirth day,
May Allah bless you & give you more days.

Ali
(1/5/08)