AbdulMuhaimin
September 3rd, 2007, 22:23
</B>A dove moaned frailly in the dark one night
On a branch, while I was sleeping.
I have lied, by God’s House! Were I a lover,
Then doves would not beat me in weeping.
I claim I am mad with love, fervent with longing
For my Lord, yet I do not weep and such animals are weeping.
-Anonymous
This poem reflects the beauty of the connection between Allah Almighty and His Slave. As I had awoken once, a great opportunity had fallen into my lap. It was a program to go to fulfill an Umrah at the heart of the world, Makkah, along with classes taught exclusively by some of the most renowned scholars of Islam. A life changing program that literally evolves you into something one cannot be able to imagine until they have attend.The program, filled with great surprises to go and do things that most pilgrims would not be able to do, was one that was definitly worth it at the first sight of the two Holy Mosques. The offer from my older sister had become extremely enticing.
As I took my seat on the plane, I was filled with love for my parents (who I would not see for the coming three weeks), desire to spend cash, and an incredibly odd emotion. I could not figure out why I felt so disembodied from my actual self. I felt as if I was obliviously swirling in a dark abyss wondering about where I was going. All my life, whenever I had prayed, I prayed in the direction of where we were going. Every Muslim in the world prayed in that direction, towards the House of Allah. The anxiety and anticipation of simply thinking of the Holy Kaaba while looking out into the worlds seas and clouds wondering how great Allah must truly be, was all too mesmerizing. Yet I could not feel at a loss of love for Allah.
As I first caught sight of the Prophets Holy Mosque, sailing through rapid transitions of time, I could not help but feel incredibly sorry for myself as I was so lost and without strong Emaan. I entered the Mosque in absolute awe of two things: the beauty of the Mosque in finally and actually being able to see the Prophets Holy Mosque, and in awe of how unable I was to not realize that I was actually there. A few days afterward, I was walking in my Ihraam, as I first set eyes on the Kaaba, and the days that followed spending time near it and in complete peace of being while practicing Tawaaf—something I have not done all my life. I have kissed the black stone, and have met people I have never met before, people I will remember till the end of my days. And I have encountered epiphanies that have changed some of the many simple ways of thought by which I run my life.
The world of Islam was where I was. The meaning of Deen was where I was. The Holy Quran talks about the place where I was. The Holy Prophet (may peace and blessings be upon him and his family) had walked and had said uncountable great and wise things and had made incomprehensible sacrifices for Allah and His Islam where I was. The companions (may Allah be pleased with all of them) of the Holy Prophet had worshipped Allah Almighty all their lives and had given their lives for Allah where I was. Yet I could not simply realize where I was.
I sat there in sight of the Holy Kaaba wishing to realize what greatness I should be realizing. And it came to me. I finally found the beauty of my problem was the same beautiful connection between Allah and His slave, a great realization that arrived in the form of a dove.
On a branch, while I was sleeping.
I have lied, by God’s House! Were I a lover,
Then doves would not beat me in weeping.
I claim I am mad with love, fervent with longing
For my Lord, yet I do not weep and such animals are weeping.
-Anonymous
This poem reflects the beauty of the connection between Allah Almighty and His Slave. As I had awoken once, a great opportunity had fallen into my lap. It was a program to go to fulfill an Umrah at the heart of the world, Makkah, along with classes taught exclusively by some of the most renowned scholars of Islam. A life changing program that literally evolves you into something one cannot be able to imagine until they have attend.The program, filled with great surprises to go and do things that most pilgrims would not be able to do, was one that was definitly worth it at the first sight of the two Holy Mosques. The offer from my older sister had become extremely enticing.
As I took my seat on the plane, I was filled with love for my parents (who I would not see for the coming three weeks), desire to spend cash, and an incredibly odd emotion. I could not figure out why I felt so disembodied from my actual self. I felt as if I was obliviously swirling in a dark abyss wondering about where I was going. All my life, whenever I had prayed, I prayed in the direction of where we were going. Every Muslim in the world prayed in that direction, towards the House of Allah. The anxiety and anticipation of simply thinking of the Holy Kaaba while looking out into the worlds seas and clouds wondering how great Allah must truly be, was all too mesmerizing. Yet I could not feel at a loss of love for Allah.
As I first caught sight of the Prophets Holy Mosque, sailing through rapid transitions of time, I could not help but feel incredibly sorry for myself as I was so lost and without strong Emaan. I entered the Mosque in absolute awe of two things: the beauty of the Mosque in finally and actually being able to see the Prophets Holy Mosque, and in awe of how unable I was to not realize that I was actually there. A few days afterward, I was walking in my Ihraam, as I first set eyes on the Kaaba, and the days that followed spending time near it and in complete peace of being while practicing Tawaaf—something I have not done all my life. I have kissed the black stone, and have met people I have never met before, people I will remember till the end of my days. And I have encountered epiphanies that have changed some of the many simple ways of thought by which I run my life.
The world of Islam was where I was. The meaning of Deen was where I was. The Holy Quran talks about the place where I was. The Holy Prophet (may peace and blessings be upon him and his family) had walked and had said uncountable great and wise things and had made incomprehensible sacrifices for Allah and His Islam where I was. The companions (may Allah be pleased with all of them) of the Holy Prophet had worshipped Allah Almighty all their lives and had given their lives for Allah where I was. Yet I could not simply realize where I was.
I sat there in sight of the Holy Kaaba wishing to realize what greatness I should be realizing. And it came to me. I finally found the beauty of my problem was the same beautiful connection between Allah and His slave, a great realization that arrived in the form of a dove.