The Names of God

Just a few thoughts that ran through my head today-

The Quran, the 'Word of God' (I'll explain the quotation marks later on), refers to Him using 99 different names, usually in what we call in arabic 'exaggerative tenses'. An example of this is "Ghafoor" (most forgiving) and "Raheem" (most merciful). Arabic has always been the essence of Book and the platform from which the Quran could realistically thrive and be subject to esoteric interpretation. Arabic has also always been the essence of pre-Islamic culture (yes, the Peninsula did indeed have culture at some point in history), a culture that placed great value and emphasis on articulation and mastery of the written and spoken word. As we all know the Book wasn't actually written till the Second Khalipha, it had remained in the memory of the inhabitants of the Peninsula for the interim period after Prophet Muhammad's 'wa7y' (from 'i7a2' - inspiration). The connection P. Muhammad formed with Angel Gabriel (a powerful 'package' or energy or Light) revealed the Quran at different stages and in several chunks. The connection was manifested in the spoken Arabic word.

There is therefore an unmistakable emphasis in Islamic practice on recitation- be it prayers, words, or the actual Quran. If you follow my train of though on this, uttering the 99 Names is therefore there to inspire you into a connection with God, the Light (An-Nur).


On the other hand, a fundamental tenant of Kabbalah is the revelation of the 72 Names of God. These aren't actually names, they are non-sensical sequences of Hebrew letters (3 letters to each sequence), methodologically derived from the passage in the Zohar describing Moses fleeing Egypt and parting the Red Sea. It is believed that this passage provides a mystic code to miracles, and that the 72 Names are the ultimate decryption.

Emphasis here as it has been in kabbalah is not on the spoken word, but rather on the power of Hebrew letters. The eyes are considered the true mirrors of the soul, and therefore scanning the letters imprints not only images but a certain type of energy.


As a native Arabic speaker, and as Muslim, I find this approach slightly difficult. The culture I come from is overly articulate and the language tends to be ornate and almost rhythmic. To discard all this and try to focus on meditation through sight has been a challenge. Still, I do feel the force of the Hebrew language when I actually attend Shabbat. Or maybe I'm just picking up on the energy that surrounds me there, or the actual singing (in Hebrew).

il fait si froid dehors, ici c'est comfortable

The two or three weeks of relative pain I spent following my break up eventually turned into something altogether different. After relentlessly trying to fill the space Jim occupied in my daily life with school work, socializing, and travelling, I realized I’d perhaps distracted myself too much, to the point where I feel a bit of motion-sickness.

Exams were in mid February, and I spent the entire first half of the month trying to focus on studying and occasionally seeing my father who was staying in a hotel not far from where I live. With the former I felt frustrated, or blocked. It’s not only that the material was unbearably dull and unrewarding, but it’s also that I felt very insecure about my abilities after spending so much time with such an over-achieving set of classmates. Pre-dominantly Oxbridge, arrogant, and just as fiercely competitive as I am, I felt like I was surrounded be people that were so much more engaged in their careers than I was. Law for me was a random choice stemming out of indecision, and with a little hard work and a lot of luck I ended up on the team of trainees for the world’s biggest law firm. For my classmates I feel like they’re on a deliberate and endlessly thought-out path. Three years ago I didn’t even know what a solicitor was. And now as this un-engaging work is being thrown at me, I feel like they’re much better equipped to handle donkey work than I am.

Emotionally things have been equally difficult, and it’s not just my break up I’m talking about. My schedule has filled up to the point where I have little time to relax at home and read a book, I feel like I’m constantly running and rushing (from school to lunch to shrink to coffee to dry cleaner) and perhaps I subconsciously made my life so just so I could not think about the fact that I’m worried about my career and performance at school, or the fact that there’s this huge gap were Jim used to be. I started dating people and trying get back into having a little fun, but after my date leaves or after going out with a few friends I feel more alone than I did before. I feel like I’m on a steep learning curve, with a promise of some sort of maturity and complacency at the end of the line; the line being curved, I just can’t see it yet.

On the plus side I feel an amazing rush of independence and my aggressive schedule has allowed me to meet interesting people in different settings. Building strong friendships in London is a difficult task, but one that I know I will succeed in. It once amazed me how I had 200+ contacts on my phone but not one I could call when I felt down or wanted to talk. Yes, there’s a lot of crap to sort through but good people are everywhere, and you need to be able to spot them and put the right amount of effort into building a relationship.

I’m typing this from a rainy and cold Vienna, and I just got off the phone with a dear and close person. As he prepares for his grandmother’s funeral, I feel that perhaps we are all more emotionally connected as a species than we think. It’s not a matter of synchronicity or coincidence, but perhaps a channel of energy, ‘Light’, what have you, that puts our souls in their primordial state – united.

Dance

This is truly amazing.
The music is from Buddha Bar (III i imagine) but the burlesque vintage dancers turn the track into something haunting...

Pan's Labyrinth

"Because the paths of the Lord are inscrutable, because the essence of his forgiveness lies in his world and his mystery, because although God sends us the message, it is our task to decipher it, . . . when we open our arms, the Earth takes in only a hollow and senseless shell. Far away now is the world in its eternal glory. Because it is in pain that we find the meaning of life and the state of grace that we lose when we are born. Because God, in his infinite wisdom, puts the solution in our hands. And because it is only in his physical absence that the place he occupies in our souls is reaffirmed."

H-I-Larious

Certainty

I sat up straight in bed, looking down at my Business Law and Practice text-book. I wasn’t very comfortable, and I needed a highlighter. I wanted things to be easier to skim through when it came time for the exams. I looked at room door, closed as it was, and my backpack, equidistant from the bed and the door. I didn’t want to get up. I had wrapped myself in the blanket already.

“Taher!” I called out to my flatmate. Maybe he’d help me. Silence, and the noise of some music chart countdown on TV fading in and out. “Taher!” My voice rang in the walls of my room. The grey morning light in London meekly flowed into the room. My lamp was on, I didn’t care.

“Taher!” This time the echo hit a chord in my chest. My vision blurred as tears began to form around the corners of my eyes. Why can’t he hear me? I called out again and again. A stream had developed, and the tears flowed. Why can’t he fucking here me? Am I not fucking loud enough? Every time my voice rang I felt like the walls were closing in. I prayed that he make it in time before I could no longer breathe. Cold air swirled around me and had me digging my arms deeper under the blanket.

----------------------

It feels like peeling away layer after layer of my own skin. Like methodologically chopping away calculated pieces of my own heart. Like severing an arm, or a leg. It feels pulling in the window shutters on a sunny day in spring, leaving the room in dark nostalgia. Like digging a whole in my stomach, shovel in hand, not looking up or ever considering how I might be able to one day climb back out and forget that an abyss so consuming ever existed.

It feels so overwhelmingly regretful, yet I’m doing it. I’m pushing with all my might the beautiful movie-set out of the rolling camera’s frame. A blank canvass must do for now. In my mind there is no doubt. My intuition bites at me for hurting him, but cheers me on in pursuing what is right. My heart is pulling at the other end of the rope as it always has – it is equally as powerful, and when the day’s exhaustion sets in it gains considerable ground and I lay in bed, phone in hand, my fingers running over the keys that would spell out my heart’s desire.

I hope one day I will forgive myself for this, and truly find myself convinced that it was the right thing to do. For now it’s a risk. They say the greater the risk, the more extreme any potential reward will be. I hope they’re right, because right now, I feel like I’m running through the motions of life in a vacuum.

Certainty is the key. Certainty that Light is in my life at this very point in time, and that tomorrow will be more beautiful than I ever imagined.

James, if you ever read this, do know that I have loved you to unreasonable extremes. Reality hasn’t been kind, and nor have I. This is only one of the beginning chapters of my life, and I plan on learning from it. Thank you for every minute of every day we’ve spent together.

How frodo baggins got his groove back (and started to free associate)

The weekend started in a weird way.
Jim and I had decided that it was finally time that we suspend our relationship. I'd decided that a while back but he was finally convinced when he found out I had been to a Christmas party hosted by Freddy, the 'devil' as he would call him. Point being, by crook more than hook I managed to get what I think I wanted which was a separation. It hasn't sunk in, I don't know if its a delayed reaction or maybe, just maybe, I'll distract myself to the point where I just look at it as a pleasant thing of the past, without the emotional mourning.

I've been very good at distracting myself so far.

Friday night I come home from university and I realize i have no plans. I didn't feel like going to Shabbat and i knew it would be quite empty as most people are still on holiday. I decided it was (finally) time to return to the gym. I also decided that it would be just a treadmill day, as i had had too much food in California over the christmas break.

I put on my hollister gym pants and polo shirt, packed a bag with deodorant, gel and what have you, and walked to Virgin Active Chelsea, which is only about a 5 minutes away. I made a beeline for the treadmill, and despite hoping I'd last for an hour, i only made it to 45 minutes and felt really tired.

I don't like that slight dizziness i get after i walk off a treadmill. I walked rather slowly to the mens locker room, which was attached to this fully equipped spa. Ah what a great idea - i took off all my clothes, took a shower, and wrapped myself in a towel for the steam room. Now this isn't one of those sleazy London 'gay gyms' that I've grown to hate. It's actually respectable and frequented by straight men (as much as it likely that gyms are frequented by straight men in London anyway). The spa was nonetheless a little sexually charged. I'd catch someone looking at me as I took a shower. The dark steam room was eerily quiet. The jacuzzi (which is the best I've seen!) was far too comfortable. None of the facilities were mixed so no trunks or towels were necessary at any point, and many made use of this freedom.

At some point i saw this guy, a stocky, blond, boyish good looking guy, probably mid twenties. He seemed as straight as they come. Just my type. You could probably guess what ended up happening. It was strange though because he never made it clear that he was in any way interested. It was only when i went back to the locker to get dressed and saw that his locker was across from mine did I start a conversation about, something stupid, being back from the holidays. His face lit up and he started talking back enthusiastically. Wayne, he said his name was, from South Africa. I gave him plenty of opportunity to make beeline for the exit but he was attached like a little puppy. I asked if he was doing anything and suggested this bar that was not too far from the gym. "I'd have to go home to change first" i said. I can't be caught in Kosmopol in sports gear. He said sure I'll come along and wait.

When he said wait, i assumed wait in the living room while i got dressed. He was a little bit more forward than that, and followed me to my room. as i took off my gym pants and put on some jeans, his hand tapped my thigh. I moved in a little closer and we made out for a while before i pushed him into bed. It was good vanilla fun, definitely needed it all. After we were finished he asked if i picked up guys from the gym every day. I honestly have never done so, and he seemed to have trouble believing that. We lay idle for a while before finally deciding to actually make it to Kosmopol. Once there we had fantastic cocktails. He looked at me and asked: "have you had sex with a Jew before?" I answered "Yes". A little disappointed, he extended his hand and said "Well you're definitely my first Arab". I hadn't known he was Jewish, but I thought that was kind of cute. He also made a point of the fact that he'd never actually dated guys. He was much more into women for relationships, men for the odd fling. Fair enough, at least I'm not going to have to deal with drama. Come to think of it, he was actually really aggressive in his manner of speech. Short man syndrome we used to call it.

We shared the sofa with two ladies, our conversation with them lasted for hours. My flatmate showed up, and as soon as he saw my new catch he looked at me and asked "who is this guy? samwise gamjee?" (you know, from lord of the rings?)I thought that was pretty funny, and commented that he was a really hot samwise gamjee. At the end of it he'd had too many drinks and was resting his head on my chest. I asked if he wanted to leave and he finally said yes. Somehow we made it back to my flat (he was really drunk). Before falling asleep instantly he looked at me and said, "you know, I hate people like you". He wrapped his arm and leg around me and fell asleep.

Killer

I'm really getting deeper and deeper into In Search of Sunrise 6 Ibiza - especially the last few tracks of disc 1

this is awesome