I Envy

I envy the sand that met his feet
I’m jealous of honey he tasted sweet
Of birds that hovered above his head
Of spiders who spun their sacred web
To save him from his enemies
I envy clouds formed from the seas
That gave him cover from the heat
Of a sun whose light could not compete
With his, whose face did shine so bright
That all was clear in blinding night
I envy sightless trees that gazed
Upon his form completely dazed
Not knowing if the sun had risen
But felt themselves in unison
With those who prayed, and fasted too
Simply because he told them to
With truth and kindness, charity
From God who gave such clarity
His mercy comes in one He sent
To mold our hearts more heaven bent
I envy all there at his side
Who watched the turning of the tide
As truth prevailed and falsehood fled
And hope restored life to the dead
Men and Women through him found grace
To seek together God’s noble face
I envy the cup that gave him drink
His thoughts that helped us all to think
To be one thought that passed his mind
Inspiring him to act so kind
For me this world is not one jot
If I could simply be a thought
From him to God throughout the ages
As revelation came in stages
I pity all who think it odd
To hear him say there is one God
Or he was sent by God to men
To hone their spirits’ acumen
It’s pride that blinds us from the sight
That helps good men to see his light
He taught us all to be God’s slaves
And he will be the one who saves
Humanity from sinful pride
Muhammad has God on his side
So on this day be blessed and sing
For he was born to grace our Spring
With lilies, flowers, life’s rebirth
In a dome of green like his on earth
... In Honour of the Beloved Prophet Muhammad (saw),

Shaykh Hamzah Yusuf Hanson

I am here

Each moment contains
a hundred messages from
God: To every cry of
"Oh Lord," He answers
a hundred times,
"I am here"

... Mevlana Rumi

Leave Sleep for Prayer

"And during part of the night forsake sleep by prayer, beyond what is already incumbent upon thee; maybe thy Lord will raise thee to a position of praise and glory" ... al-Isra' 17:79

Forgiveness

On the authority of Anas (may Allah be pleased with him), who said:

I heard the Messenger of Allah (PBUH) say: Allah the Almighty said:

'O son of Adam, so long as you call upon Me and ask of Me, I shall forgive you for what you have done, and I shall not mind. O son of Adam, were your sins to reach the clouds of the sky and were you then to ask forgiveness of Me, I would forgive you. O son of Adam, were you to come to Me with sins nearly as great as the earth and were you then to face Me, ascribing no partner to Me, I would bring you forgiveness nearly as great at it.'

It was related by at-Tirmidhi (also by Ahmad ibn Hanbal). Its chain of authorities is sound.

A speech at the UN Assembly

An ingenious example of speech and politics occurred recently in the United Nations Assembly and made the world community smile. A representative from Palestinian began:'
Before beginning my talk I want to tell you something about Moses. When he struck the rock and it brought forth water, he thought, 'What a good opportunity to have a bath! 'He removed his clothes, put them aside on the rock and entered the water. When he got out and wanted to dress, his clothes had vanished. An Israeli had stolen them.'
The Israeli representative jumped up furiously and shouted,
'What are you talking about? The Israeli weren't there then.
'The Palestinian representative smiled and said
'And now that we have made that clear, I will begin myspeech.'

Dont miss this chance!

The opportunity of Laylatul Qadr is here Inshallah. Life is about people that take advantage of their opportunities to win the love of Allah, and this is indeed one of those chances.
Abu Dah Daah was one of those who found an opportunity and won that which is greater than the heavens and the earth. An adult companion of the Prophet (Peace be upon him) cultivated his garden next to the property of an orphan. The orphan claimed that a specific palm tree was on his property and thus belonged to him. The companion rejected the claim and off to the Messenger of Allah (Peace be upon him) went the orphan boy to complain. With his justness, the Messenger of Allah (Peace be upon him) measured the two gardens and found that the palm tree did indeed belong to the companion. The orphan erupted crying. Seeing this, the Prophet (Peace be upon him) offered the companion, 'would you give him the palm tree and to you is a palm tree in Jannah?' However, the companion in his disbelief that an orphan would complain to the Prophet (Peace be upon him) missed the opportunity and went away angry. But someone else saw the opportunity, Abu Dah Daah (may Allah be pleased with him) . He went to the Prophet (Peace be upon him) and asked, 'Ya Rasul Allah, if I buy the tree from him and give it to the orphan shall I have that tree in Jannah?' The Messenger of Allah (Peace be upon him) replied, 'Yes.' Abu Dah Daah chased after the companion and asked, 'Would you sell that tree to me for my entire garden?' The companion answered, 'Take it for there is no good in a tree that I was complained to the Prophet about.' Immediately, Abu Dah Daah went home and found his wife and children playing in the garden. 'Leave the garden!' shouted Abu Dah Daah, 'we've sold it to Allah! We've sold it to Allah!' Some of his children had dates in their hand and he snatched the dates from them and threw them back into the garden. 'We've sold it to Allah!' When Abu Dah Daah was later martyred in the battle of Uhud, Rasul Allah (Peace be upon him) stood over his slain body and remarked, 'How many shady palm trees does Abu Dah Daah now have in paradise?' What did Abu Dah Daah lose? Dates? Bushes? Dirt? What did he gain? He gained a Jannah whose expanse is the heavens and the earth. Abu Dah Daah did not miss his opportunity, and I pray to Allah that we do not miss our opportunity of standing to Allah on Laylatul Qadr.

How to visit the time of The Prophet Muhammad (saw) and the Sahabah?

Many of us wish we could have lived with the Prophet (saw) and that we could have lived among the greatest community to ever exist... The Sahabah (may Allah be pleased with them all).

We know some of their stories we read the seerah of the Prophet (saw) and we long to be in that time.

Recently myself and my husband have been going though the Seerah of one of the greatest Sahabah Umar Ibn Al Khattab (may Allah be pleased with him ameen) by Imam Anwar Al Awlaki (may Allah preserve him ameen).

Words can not express how wonderful an experience this is for me. Although I may sound surprised I shouldnt really as I have listened to many lectures by Imam Anwar and each time Im blown away by not only his style of delivering the lecture but the wonderful amoun of detail he goes into.

Listening to this particular set has realy allowed me to feel as if I too am walking the streets of Makkah and Madinah with the Sahabah as if I am witnessing how Umar (ra) arrived at the door of Dar Al Arkam to declare his faith in Allah, as if I climbed up the mountain after the battle of Uhud with the prophet (saw) and the sahabah to the point that when the Imam spoke about the death of the Prophet (saw) and when he narrated the words of Abu Bakr Siddiq (ra) I felt as if the prophet (saw) had just passed away and I was left with tears streaming down my face.

There is so much to be learnt from the lives of the Sahabah they were after all the best of generations. And I have never come across anyone who has told the story of the life of Umar(ra) so well masha'Allah.

My advice to anyone and everyone who reads this post is to go right now and get these cds and listen for yourself. Also available by Imam Anwar are The life of Muhammad Makkan period and Madinah period part 1, Abu Bakr (ra), The Here After, Lives of the prophets and various other single lectures.

Last 10 Nights!

The last 10 nights of Ramadhan are fast approaching us... Oh my how this blessed month has already flown by so quickly.

Here is a short but beautiful dua to memorise which can be used in sujood, after our prayers... when are sitting at our office desks with 2 seconds to spare basically when ever we have time insha'Allah also after the month of Ramadhan we should continue to stick onto the good habits we adopt in this blessed month so of course carry on using the dua through out the year insha'Allah.

So its time for us all to humble ourselves before our Lord and get our heads onto the floor and beg for His Mercy, Guidance and Forgiveness.

Aishah (radhiya Allahu Ta’ala anha), reported that she said:

“O Messenger of Allāh! What if I knew which nightLailatul-Qadr was, then what should I say in it?”

He said ‘Say:

اَللهُمَّ إنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ الْعَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّيْ.

Allahumma innaka ‘affuwwun tuhibbul ‘afwa fa’fu ‘anni’ ”

O Allāh You are The One Who pardons greatly, and loves to pardon, so pardon me.

(Tirmīdhī)

Forever Grateful! Alhamdulillah!

I recently had a wonderful to trip to Uganda in Africa. Apart from really enjoying myself there with family etc I really had an eye opener to the world.

Here in the west well in the UK anyways we spend so much time moaning and complaining about what we dont have and we even moan about what we do have. We need this and that etc and I could go on. Then we see people who have really been blessed and they have so much but they are not really happy... on a day to day basis you dont see them smiling in their every day lives, laughing and joking, speaking pleasently to one another etc... perhaps Im being slightly harsh but whenI saw the simple and poor people in Africa this is what it seems like.

The people in the villages and even on the outskirts of Kampala are so poor they do not even have the basic hygiene facilities we all take for granted, their children grow up on the road sides in torn clothing which barely covers their bodies and they take their afternoon naps curled up in he dirt on the bare floor. But when you see them... its amazing as they look so happy subhana'Allah! Full of smiles for each other and full of smiles for me the complete strange driving past. Its strange as although I could clearly see the state they were living in complete poverty I mean one little girl I stopped to talk to when she went to call her mother from the house I saw that the tiny hut they had for a home did not even have a front door to close it was just the frame of a door but no actual door, even though I saw this with my own eyes I felt a deep longing to want to live along side them, to join into their simple but happy lives, I wanted to be part of them.

Their buildings are barely what we would call buildings... small tiny huts, their shops are hardly the Tesco's, or Asda's with neatly and cleanely displayed fruits yet their little homes look so welcoming and their stalls look so fresh and appetising. I kept asking myself... 'Can these people really be so happy? and IF so how and why?'

I then asked my husband who grew up in Uganda 'These poor people are they happy?' 'Yes' he replied, 'Because their lives are simple'. Thats is that was the secret. Its because they dont have such a huge standard to live by they dont have this idea in their heads that need this and that to be happy etc. They work hard, enough to live by and are happy with that alhamdulillah.

These people make the most our of everything... look at their bus stops when they do have them most of the time they dont have even that but when they do its so simple, so humbling.

They make use out of everything... from making shoes out of a disgarded foot ball or tire as its been punctured, to turning a wire hanger into a small model motor bike or car. Even a small ditch on the road side is turned into a car wash! These people dont sit around moaning that they have no means to work they turn what we may call rubbish into work.



Its amazing how much one can learn from what we call 'The 3rd World'. So many lessons of basic humanity we can learn from them if only we opened our eyes.



Having said all of this, at the same time... you do see how much in need these people are and many a time whilst driving past these people I could not help but cry. One time I small boy in torn up clothes who was filled with dust and dirt looked up and saw me slowly driving past, his face beamed with happiness as he waved me goodbye... this made me cry why I dont know.

Another time something which deeply affected me was a small girl I saw. She must have been about 5 years old. Again her clothes were torn, her hair was matted, her body full of dust and she was struggling as she walked down the street as she was carrying a dirty heavy container filled with water. It was one of the most heart breaking things I have ever seen in my life, why not only because of the effort she was goign through to take water home, not only because she was so young, not only because the state she was in but also because even though she was going through all of this effort carrying this container which was easily the same weight as he frail body but also because... at the bottom of this container there was a hole where the water was leaking out from. How far she had to travel I dont know how many time a day she had to do this I dont know but what I Do know is that a child her age should not be doing that. It was so sad to see this. Her face was full of struggle it actually looked like an old women yet when I stopped her to offer her something and when her face beamed into a smile through all the dirt it actually glowed and I saw the child in her the baby in her and I cried and thought to myself... never again do I have the right to moan or complain about what I dont have let alone moan about what I do have and never again do I have the right to moan about how much house work I have. It was a huge reminder of how grateful we all need to be of the countless blessings we have been given. Alhamdulillah!

I choose Heaven at my feet!

Well firstly I welcome all of you and myself back to my lonely blog! For my old visitors you can see Ive given it a facelift of some sort.

Anyways for ages Ive always wanted to read an article, story or even a comment which expresses clearly and simply the issue of men and women in Islam and finally just the other day I received one in my inbox which I thought to share here.

Woman's Reflection on Leading Prayer: Yasmin Mogahed

'Given my privilege as a woman, I only degrade Myself by trying to be something I'm not--and in all honesty--don't want to be: a man. As women, we will never reach true liberation until we stop trying to mimic men, and value the beauty in our own God-given distinctiveness.'
On March 18, 2005 Amina Wadud led the first female-led Jumuah (Friday)prayer. On that day women took a huge step towards being more like men. But, did we come closer to actualizing our God given liberation?I Don't think so.
What we so often forget is that God has honored the woman by giving her value in relation to God not in relation to men. But as western feminism erases God from the scene, there are no standard left but men. As a result the western feminist is forced to find her value in relation to a man. And in so doing she has accepted a faulty assumption. She has accepted that man is the standard, and thus a woman can never be a full human being until she becomes just like a man-the standard.
When a man cut his hair short, she wanted to cut her hair short. When a man joined the army, she wanted to join the army. She wanted these things for no other reason than because the 'standard' had it. What she didn't recognize was that God dignifies both men and women in their distinctiveness-not their sameness. And on March 18, Muslim women made the very same mistake.
For 1400 years there has been a consensus of the scholars that men are to lead prayer. As a Muslim woman, why does this matter? The one who leads prayer is not spiritually superior in any way. Something is not better just because a man does it. And leading prayer is not better,just because it's leading. Had it been the role of women or had it been more divine, why wouldn't the Prophet have asked Ayesha or Khadija, or Fatima-the greatest women of all time-to lead?
These women were promised heaven-and yet they never lead prayer.
But now for the first time in 1400 years, we look at a man leadingprayer and we think, 'That's not fair.' We think so although God hasgiven no special privilege to the one who leads. The imam is no higher in the eyes of God than the one who prays behind.
On the other hand, only a woman can be a mother. And God has given special privilege to a mother. The Prophet taught us that heaven liesat the feet of mothers. But no matter what a man does he can never be a mother. So why is that not unfair?
When asked who is most deserving of our kind treatment? The Prophet replied 'your mother' three times before saying 'your father' only once.
And yet even when God honors us with something uniquely feminine, we are too busy trying to find our worth in reference to men, to value it-or even notice. We too have accepted men as the standard; so anything uniquely feminine is, by definition, inferior. Being sensitive is an insult, becoming a mother-a degradation.
In the battle between stoic rationality (considered masculine) and self-less compassion (considered feminine), rationality reigns supreme.
As soon as we accept that everything a man has and does is better, all that follows is just a knee jerk reaction: if men have it-we want ittoo. If men pray in the front rows, we assume this is better, so we want to pray in the front rows too. If men lead prayer, we assume the imam is closer to God, so we want to lead prayer too. Somewhere along the line we've accepted the notion that having a position of worldly leadership is some indication of one's position with God.
A Muslim woman does not need to degrade herself in this way. She has God as a standard. She has God to give her value; she doesn't need aman.
In fact, in our crusade to follow men, we, as women, never even stopped to examine the possibility that what we have is better for us.In some cases we even gave up what was higher only to be like men.
Fifty years ago, society told us that men were superior because they left the home to work in factories. We were mothers. And yet, we were told that it was women's liberation to abandon the raising of another human being in order to work on a machine. We accepted that working in a factory was superior to raising the Foundation of society -just because a man did it.
Then after working, we were expected to be superhuman-the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect homemaker -and have the perfect career. And while there is nothing wrong, by definition, with a woman having a career, we soon came to realize what we had sacrificed by blindly mimicking men. We watched as our children became strangers and soon recognized the privilege we'd given up.
And so only now-given the choice-women in the West are choosing to stay home to raise their children.
According to the United States Department of Agriculture, only 31percent of mothers with babies, and 18 percent of mothers with two or more children, are working full-time. And of those working mothers, a survey conducted by Parenting Magazine in 2000, found that 93% of them say they would rather be home with their kids, but are compelled to work due to 'financial obligations'. These 'obligations' are imposed on women by the gender sameness of the modern West, and removed fromwomen by the gender distinctiveness of Islam.
It took women in the West almost a century of experimentation to realize a privilege given to Muslim women 1400 years ago.
Given my privilege as a woman, I only degrade myself by trying to be something I'm not--and in all honesty--don't want to be: a man. As women, we will never reach true liberation until we stop trying to mimic men, and value the beauty in our own God-given distinctiveness.
If given a choice between stoic justice and compassion, I choose compassion. And if given a choice between worldly leadership and heaven at my feet - I choose Heaven.

Face to Faith

Hunger can bring out the worst in us. In a wonderful scene in Shakespeare’s 'As You Like It', a desperate and hungry Orlando comes upon Duke Senior and his exiled court in the forest, who are about to start dinner. Assuming the law of the jungle presides in Arden, Orlando brandishes his sword and demands food upon pain of death. Duke Senior rebukes him for his lack of civility, and wisely adds: “Your gentleness shall force, more than your force move us to gentleness.” Orlando responds: “I almost die for food, and let me have it.” Unfazed, the duke says: “Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table.” Orlando is shamed by the duke's gallantry and explains that hunger had bred violence in him.

Almost four centuries later another bard, Bob Marley, melodically reminded us: “Them belly full, but we hungry/A hungry mob is an angry mob.” We all know the primal nature of hunger; we have experienced the irritability that comes from missing breakfast or skipping our cup of morning coffee or tea. We hyperbolically talk of “starving” when a mealtime draws near. Our food trysts are now frequent every day in what sociologists refer to as “repeated food contacts” and farmers simply call grazing. At the drop of a hat, we indulge in lattes and biscotti. Many people no longer eat three “square” meals but rather graze all day, with Starbucks troughs sprouting up everywhere to ensure none suffer the pangs of hunger or the pain of caffeine withdrawal. In the lands of plenty in the west, we tend to forget that the abundance and easy accessibility of food was not always so and is not as widespread even now.

Few of us who have the luxury of reading the daily paper over a cup of coffee and a piece of toast slathered with rich butter and marmalade have ever gone hungry intentionally, unless we succumbed to some ridiculous crash diet. But there was a time in the west when Lent, which commemorates Christ's 40-day fast in the desert, meant fasting all day and eating one meal at night. As time passed that tradition devolved into a semi-fast and now means merely giving up something one really likes, such as chocolate.

Even our portions of food and drink are much greater than what our grandparents had. In the midst of this cornucopia of consumption, millions of Muslims voluntarily abstain from food, drink and sex during daylight hours in the month of Ramadan. They watch their co-workers eat and drink throughout the day, and occasionally have to apologise for not joining in due to their religious observance. Fasting for a month makes them aware of hunger as a palpable physical sensation, not a remote occurrence they read about in the newspaper. When the UN tells us that almost a billion people suffer from hunger and malnutrition and 25,000 people a day die from hunger, a faster appreciates these statistics in ways that remain distant to others.

But fasting is not just about giving up food and drink. It's about tending to “the better angels of our nature”. The Prophet Muhammad said, “If one is not willing to give up bad behaviour during his fast, God has no need for him to give up his food and drink.” Muslims are encouraged during this time to be better people, to treat others with more deference. If enticed to argue, the faster is advised to respond: “I am fasting.”

There are many ways to be hungry. One can hunger for love, or fame or social justice, but hunger for food seems to curb all other cravings. In being aware of others' hunger, we contribute to a more empathic world. Perhaps, if, like Duke Senior, we responded to the cries of the myriad desperate Orlandos foraging in the forests of famine out there with hospitality and help, they might be coaxed into civility themselves. Certainly, hunger can bring out the worst in us. But it can also bring out the best.

SHAYKH HAMZA YUSUF *

* The Guardian, Saturday October 13, 2007.

Taken from: http://web.mac.com/jawziyyah/The_Jawziyyah_Institute/Blog/Entries/2007/10/14_Face_to_Faith.html

How to take a holiday in Pakistan

How to take a holiday in Pakistan
By Hugh Sykes BBC News, Pakistan

Suicide bombs, battles in tribal areas, and states of emergency tend to put off casual tourists. But the impression such events convey can often be misleading and unrepresentative of a country as a whole.

A few days ago I was sitting in a cafe sipping best Italian espresso and reading a news magazine.
The front page was full of furious faces and clenched fists under the headline, The Most Dangerous Nation in the World isn't Iraq, it's Pakistan.

Hugh Sykes journey took him to the Chitral Valley in north west Pakistan
The cafe was in a smart bookshop in Pakistan's capital, Islamabad.
I sighed and turned to the article inside. It was a revealing analysis of some penetration of a few places in Pakistan by the Taleban and al-Qaeda. I pondered the magnifying-glass effect of dramatic news coverage. The suicide bomb attack on Benazir Bhutto's homecoming parade in Karachi in October, which killed an estimated 140 people, and the assault on a Taleban pocket in the Swat valley, a tourist destination, took place while I was in Pakistan. But neither event had a noticeable effect on the general sense of security and stability where I was in Islamabad or on the road.

The notion that Pakistan is more dangerous than Iraq is absurd.

Until recently suicide bombs, murder, and kidnapping were routine in Iraq. And there is no way I would do there what I have just done in Pakistan: take a holiday.
Never alone. I hired a car in Islamabad and headed out onto the partially completed M2 motorway that will eventually connect Lahore (near the Indian border) with Peshawar (the last city on the road to the Khyber Pass and Afghanistan). But motorways are boring, so I left the M2 and re-joined the ancient Grand Trunk Road, which links most of the main towns of northern Pakistan.

For much of the route it is lined with eucalyptus trees, their almost-autumn leaves and silvery bark shining in the clear October sun as I drove along.
Driving in Pakistan is fast and sometimes chaotic, but not competitive.
They even hoot politely. And one great danger at home you hardly ever have to contend with in Pakistan is drunk drivers and people with concentration blurred by hangovers.

My destinations were Chitral, an isolated valley in the far-north-west on the Afghan border and Gilgit, close to China and Tajikistan. The round-trip was more than 1,200 miles (nearly 2,000km) and included mountain passes almost half as high as Everest. And although I was driving alone, I was hardly ever on my own. There is public transport but not a lot. So, people walk long distances along these high stony roads and if a car passes, they hold out a hand hoping for a lift.

One morning, 12-year-old Kashif sat with me for a while. He had been expecting to walk for more than an hour to the nearest town, to buy a new pair of shoes. He showed me the pair he was wearing. The right shoe's upper was half split away from the sole. Kashif spoke almost perfect English, good enough to warn me as we turned a tight bend, "Be careful, uncle, road badly damaged round next corner from earthquake." Earthquake damage from 2005, still unrepaired.

I spent the night at a hotel next to the old fort at Mastuj, near the snowy Hindu Kush peak Tirich Mir which is 7,690m high (25,200 feet).

The hotel consists of small timber and stone cabins set in a wood of walnut trees and poplars and a plane tree reputed to be 200 years old.
I woke to autumn colours every bit as wondrous as anything I have seen in Kew Gardens or New England.

My next hitch-hiking companion was Mohammed, an English Literature student at Peshawar University.
"So you study Shakespeare?" I asked.
"Yes, and Wordsworth."
And John Donne, I wondered?
"Ah, John Donne," he raptured.
"John Donne... the poetry of love."
I do not know any Donne by heart but when I attempted Shakespeare's Seven Ages of Man from As You Like It, Mohammed completed every line as we bumped along the dusty road.

Mohammed, an English Literature student at Peshawar University

Parts of Pakistan are deeply conservative, devoutly Muslim places, and I was not signalled for lifts by many women. But there were some. A mother and grandmother, sitting in the back, their heads covered but not their faces and one-year-old Anis and his father Samir in the front with me. He protested when I took a photograph of the two women but they did not object and posed happily as they waited for the flash. When I delivered them to the Gilgit hospital where the little boy had an appointment with a heart specialist, his father was so pleased and grateful he gave me a bear hug, and a massive smile that erased his earlier stern objections to taking a picture.
I gave lifts to more than 20 people, learned how to say "no problem" in Urdu (Koi Batnahi), and had to hold back tears when two children said thank you for their lift and offered me money to help pay for the petrol.