Late Comment on Hijaab

london-iraq-iran-2441139-o
I just came from a community cinema event in Philadelphia for an independent film called “Arusi Persian Wedding” directed by Marjan Tehrani. It’s a really beautiful film that follows an Iranian-American and his American wife who travel to Iran and have a traditional Persian wedding. I was not only in awe of how incredibly beautiful Iran is, but also at how I found myself relating to it. The Iranian-American expresses his pride for his Iranian roots, but also feels a distance because of his inability to fully understand the culture and language. It reminded me about how I sometimes struggle with finding my ethnic identity, no matter how much I’m proud of it.

After the screening, there was a guest panel that led an interesting discussion about the film and then took questions from the audience. My friend got a chance to chime in with a great question, while I decided to sit back and listen. I didn’t feel like I had much to contribute to the conversation since the event seemed to aim at breaking stereotypes about Iran, its people, and its culture. Although one of the panelists spoke very highly of her experience as a White woman in Iran, she admitted that “initially, I was frightened, as a feminist, when I learned I had to wear the veil…”

When I got home tonight, her words replayed in my mind over and over again. I really should have gotten up and said something, even though I just wanted to make a small comment. I think I’ll e-mail her after I write this, but what I wanted to point out is that it’s very important for us to not make an association between oppression and the hijaab, or veil. Her comment seemed to implicate that someone who wears the hijaab could not also be a feminist (I would have asked her to correct me if I was wrong). I’m sure this is not what she meant, but I believe it would have been important for one of the panelists to mention that forcing someone to dress a certain way is very different from someone choosing to dress a certain way. There are plenty of Muslim women in other parts of the world, especially in the West, who wear hijaab by choice; therefore it would be very inaccurate to say that Muslim women who wear hijaab cannot be feminists. I’m glad one of the Iranian panelists said that Iranian women still drive, work, and go to school, contrary to the stereotypes and misconceptions that they’re “so oppressed.”

The other thing I should have commented on was on their usage of the word “Islam” whenever discussing the “Islamic Revolution” in 1979 and the current “Islamic Laws.” The Qur’an clearly states that religion cannot be imposed on people. Doesn’t Allah teach us to use our logic and reasoning? What is so logical about forcing someone to believe a certain way? The true spiritual essence and beauty gets lost when someone is being forced to practice a religion. Spirituality and Faith is personal; it must be felt within. Reciting the Shahada (Islamic declaration of Faith) is simple, while believing in it is something deeper and entirely different altogether.

Later, someone asked a question about whether or not these were the dress codes for Muslim women in all Islamic countries, and one of two Iranian panelists said, “I’m not sure, but I would say ‘yes,’ they are universal.” A friend and I spoke about this later after the discussion and both agreed that we felt a strong anti-Islam vibe from her. I was glad that the other Iranian panelist jumped in and explained that these are not universal dress codes in Islamic countries since most Muslim countries don’t force women to wear hijaab or the burqah.

Anyway, my main point is that the hijaab should not be associated with oppression, and Muslim women who wear it shouldn’t be so quickly judged. Just because some feminists are not familiar with certain manners of dress doesn’t mean that it’s not compatible with feminism. I think it’s important for feminists to understand that feminist thought is very diverse rather than being limited to one group of people, one culture, and one skin color.

Peace

~Broken Mystic~

(Photo credit: davidChief via creative commons)

Saracen

UPON the lonely minaret
She sat and watched as the moon wept in sorrow
Cowardly armies marching on her beautiful fields
Colonizing her land, frightening her people
Brandishing their swords, pounding their shields
Beheading sweetly scented tulips
Ignorant to the ancient history beneath their feet
They are deceived by the mission
The agenda of modern-century Crusaders

Blessed is the poetess
Who lived her joyous years
With the company of romantics and storytellers
Sharing the smiles and easing the fears
Giving peace and displaying wisdom
Like Shabistari’s Rose Garden
Radiating and shining with timeless Beauty
She brings light upon the lonely faces,
And like petals dancing in the wind
Her words gently float and glide
Landing upon even the darkest of places
Where a cold-hearted stranger runs into the street
And becomes maddened with song and dance

But war erupted one night
And mayhem surrounded our innocent friend
She saw the army roam through the land
And soar through the sky
She feared for her Loved ones
Frightened by the thought of never seeing them again
She ran from village to village just to stay alive
But nothing in her power would stop the invasion

She will never forget the day
When she heard the explosion
When olive trees and peaceful cities were blown to pieces
When she held her murdered father in her arms
What does this army know about her story?
What do they know about her family?

They march over the blood stained hills
Obedient to the orders of their leaders
Hunting for labels
They once said “Saracen” and “Barbarian”
They say “Towel-head” and “Terrorist” now
Ya Insaan (O People!) when will you tear down the flags?
So-called Muslims, Jews, and Christians
When will you start believing?
When will you have the courage to journey within
And listen to the Soul that sings: Human Being?
When will you have the courage
To burn down the walls of separation?

Behold, the courage to believe:
She kisses her father’s grave farewell
And marches to the front lines
She says: I am not a knight in shining armor!
They won’t allow me on the battlefield
With my Persian drums and flowers
So I will charge into the crossfire
And bring with me an orchestra
One like that of a mystic song

Enigmatic horns, passion drums, Arabian strings
Gregorian chant, wailing of Souls, ancient tongues
A symphony of Angels, fantasia bells, cinematic splendor
Words like shooting stars and exploding into musical rapture!

And when she stood before a thousand soldiers
She was unarmed and fearless
Snipers cannot fire upon such a display of Love
Bullets cannot kill what cannot be seen
Leaders cannot defeat such devotion to ideas

“Who are you?” they ask
And she responds:

I am Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan
I am Kashmir, Chechnya, and Bosnia
I am Lebanon, Palestine, and Pakistan

Point your rifles at me as long as you want
I don’t care

Because I know, and God knows:
You have no right

You have no right

~ Broken Mystic ~

I Weep With the Clouds

My review for the latest “Niyaz” album has been long overdue, but I promise I will write it very soon. From the album, I discovered an amazing poet who lived in the Indian Subcontinent during the 13th century: Amir Khusrau. He wrote primarily in Persian (Farsi), but also in Urdu. Azam Ali sings two of his Persian poems on the latest “Niyaz” album, “Nine Heavens.” Although this is not one of them, I had to share it because as soon as I read it, I reflected on my own separation from a dear friend of mine. Yesterday, I broke into tears because I played an old song that was special to both of us. Sometimes I’m still shocked that we’re separated. After the shock, I get the memories, and after the memories, I feel sad and miserable. I just wonder if things will ever be as beautiful as it was before. I suppose the answer is in having a positive and open heart, and to have faith in the True Friend — The One who will never turn away from us. I know deep down I have faith things will get better, Insha’Allah.

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e-judaa
Choon kunam dil becheneen roz zedildar judaa
Abr baraan wa man-o yar satadah ba-widaa’
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa…

(Farsi)

The cloud weeps, and I become separated from my friend
How can I separate my heart from my heart’s friend on such a day
The cloud weeping — and I and the friend standing, bidding farewell
I weeping separately, the clouds separately, the friend separately…

~ Amir Khusrau, 13th Century Indian Sufi

Sufism: A Journey Into the Heart of Islam

Lately, I’ve been receiving many questions about Sufism: “What is Sufism?” “Is it Islam?” “What does it teach?” I think there are many misconceptions about Islam’s spiritual dimension, especially from Orthodox Muslims. I decided to share some of my knowledge about Sufism in order to help clarify what it’s really all about. I hope you all find it helpful.

I think the best way to understand Sufism is to know that it is not different or separate from Islam. Sufism is Islamic mysticism (or spirituality). And mysticism is essentially one’s journey for Self, Love, and God. It’s a journey that emphasizes more on the inner struggle and dimensions of a human being, but since we’re not secluded monks, we have to also establish a bond with the outside world, i.e. our purpose. The Qur’an says [28:77] : “Seek — among that which God has bestowed upon you — the Hereafter. But do not forget your portion of this world either.” To me this refers to the balance that we must establish in the inner and outer worlds. If I am too spiritual, then I will miss out on my purpose. If I am too secular, then I will truly be dead. I will have no knowledge about who I am, who I Love, and where I am going.

This is a little something I wrote about Sufism on a discussion board one time: “Sufism” is merely a word if treated like a word. Just like “Islam” is simply a word if treated like one. The meaning is what’s important. Islam is submission, i.e. to the One and Only Eternal God of the Universe. Whatever you may call it, spirituality did not begin at a certain time or place, it has always been Present, even before the creation of the Universe. The Law of Submission exists in all created things, it exists in the Universe, in the air we breathe, in our cells, in everything we touch, feel, and hear. It doesn’t matter what you call it because that Divine Beauty is always Present because its Source is Eternal.

Here is another thing I wrote about it when I was speaking to someone who was asking if Sufism and Islam are different:

Sufism is the heart of Islam, just because something didn’t have a label or name in the past doesn’t mean it never existed. The spiritual teachings of the Sufis always existed, including and especially during Muhammad’s revelations, peace and blessings be upon him.

The way of the Sufi is the way of the Muslim (submitter) – to tear down the walls of separation, to discover one’s Self, to unveil the Secrets of the Universe, and to fuse in union with God. You cannot separate the Qur’an or the Prophet Muhammad from Sufism in the same way you cannot separate Sufism from Islam. “There are many numbers, but only One is counted” says Shabistari, a 13th century Sufi poet.

Like the Sunnis and Shias, the Sufis interpret the Qur’an in a unique way. For example, the Sufis would look deeper into certain verses like the following:

[15:28] Your Lord said to the angels, “I am creating a human being from aged mud, like the potter’s clay.

[15:29] “Once I perfect him, and blow into him from My spirit, you shall fall prostrate before him.”

[15:30] The angels fell prostrate; all of them.

From these verses, the Sufis would emphasize on how Allah’s spirit is within us all and that the Angels admire us because of this innate Gift. If one observes Persian paintings (which are heavily influenced by Sufism), one will see depictions of Angels always smiling and adoring human beings. It comes back to these verses. So the fact that Allah’s spirit is within us, we human beings can all make contact with this inner Divinity — not saying that we are God, but just that we are more than flesh and bone. A lot of us have forgotten about this spirit, we live life without God-consciousness and awareness, and many times, it’s not our fault. We just get caught up in so many things in the world.

The profound works of the 13th Century Persian Muslim poet, Jalaluddin Rumi, are so beautiful and Divinely-inspired that he is often synonymous with the word, “Sufism.” However, it’s not like he started his “own religion.” On the contrary, Sufism sprung in the same way that Shia Islam came about — these Muslims like Rumi noticed that the Muslim rulers were becoming more and more corrupt, emphasizing too much on the material, while the extremist and so-called “religious” Muslims were calling everything haram (forbidden). The Sufis expressed themselves through poetry and they wrote about how Muslims needed to bring Islam back to its True and Spiritual roots. Here are some beautiful verses from Rumi:

The thousand spears of Pharaoh, Moses knew,
With just one rod how to split them in two;
Medical sciences once Galen taught
But next to Jesus’s breath they’re worth naught;
The finest poetry was put to shame
The day illiterate Muhammad came

~ Rumi

This next one is especially important since it shows that Sufism is not separate from Islam:

I am the servant of the Qur’an as long as I have life.
I am the dust on the path of Muhammad, the Chosen one.
If anyone quotes anything except this from my sayings,
I am quit of him and outraged by these words.

~ Rumi

Another interesting aspect about Sufism is that learning is not just about reading books or memorizing verses. Learning is also about experiencing — in fact, a lot of emphasis is based on one experiencing the Beauty from Allah’s Divine Love. As exemplified here in a Punjabi poem by the great 17th-18th century Sufi poet, Bulleh Shah:

paRh paRh ilm hazaar kitaabaN
qaddi apnay aap nou paRhiya naee
jaaN jaaN waRhday mandir maseedi
qaddi mann apnay wich waRhiya naee
aa-vaiN laRda aye shaitan de naal bandeaa
qaddi nafss apnay naal laRiya naee

(Punjabi)

Yes, yes, you have read thousands of books
But you have never tried to read your own self
You rush in, into your Temples,
Into your Mosques,
But you have never tried to enter your own heart
Futile are all your battles with Satan
For you have never tried to fight your own desires

~ Bulleh Shah

There is a movement art in Sufism that is quite famous: The Whirling Dervishes (as you can see depicted in the Persian painting above). Many strict Muslims misunderstand whirling meditation, and they find it to be blasphemous since there is singing and dancing involved. However, as I mentioned, the whirling meditation is a movement art, and it is in no way meant to replace prayer. It is a form of zikr (or dhikr) which, in Arabic, means “remembrance/mindfulness of God.” The Sufis emphasize heavily on being mindful of God at all times, so that one journeys through life with a clear and less-conflicted mind. No one is expected to learn how to whirl because it is not compulsory. It is something that must be acted upon, something that must be a choice, and something that a person needs to feel. In South Asia (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, etc.), there is a popular Sufi music tradition called Qawwalis, which are best described as Love and Devotion Songs. But these Love songs are not sung in praise of romantic relationships; they are sung in praise of God, the Prophets (mainly Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him), Imams (like ‘Ali, peace be upon him), and Sufi mystics (any song about romantic relationships will always incorporate God). The songs are traditionally sung live with acoustic-only instruments (tabla, guitars, harmonium, sitars, flutes, etc.) and they are mainly driven by ecstatic and passionate wailing, which symbolizes the human longing to be reunited with the Divine. From mystical poetry and music to dancing, the Sufis find these forms of art as a way to absorb themselves in God’s Love. It is also a way to empty one’s self of longings and desires, so that one becomes free of the ego and empty. God fills the void with His Beauties.

In conclusion, it’s important to understand that Sufism is not different than Islam, but rather the inward dimension of Islam. The Qur’an, of course, is the basis for everything, but there are deeper meanings and secrets that are embedded in the Message. Since we are not Prophets, we cannot communicate directly with Allah, however we can follow the Prophetic Light. There is always going to be more to learn in Life — that is one of Life’s Hidden Joys. The most unhearing people are those who think they know everything.

As Muhammad, peace be upon him, once said, “He who knows himself knows his Lord.” The more we learn about ourselves, the closer we are to God. The further away we are from who we truly are, the further we are from God. This journey is not just one of learning, but of experiencing; to feel Divine Love with your mind, body, and soul — your Entire Being. It is a journey of self-discovery, and self-discovery ultimately leads to a state of Oneness, Peace, and Ever-Lasting Love. May we all acheive that with the help and guidance of our All-Loving Creator. Ameen.

~ Broken Mystic ~

Avicenna and The Floating Man (or Woman)


Abu ‘Ali al-Husayn ibn ‘Abdallah ibn Sina
was one of the great Muslim scientists and thinkers during the Islamic Golden Age in the 11th Century. He was known as Ibn Sina in the Muslim world, and “Avicenna” in Europe when his works were later translated into Latin. Though he exercised his skills at mathematics, philosophy, and astronomy, he was mainly known for his developments and discoveries in medicine. It’s interesting to note how this 11th century Persian Muslim and physician believed that the only way to understand the functioning of the human body was through scientific testing and observation. He felt that theories contained no value unless proven. He also believed that tuberculosis was infectious, while the Europeans rejected this belief for about 400 years; Avicenna was eventually proven right hundreds of years later by European physicians and scientists.

One new fascinating aspect that I recently learned about Avicenna is how his work touched upon ideas that were later developed by Carl Jung and Norman Cousins. As author Michael H. Morgan writes, “[Avicenna's] theories about the mind will prove remarkably prescient, finding expression some 900 years later in modern psychology as well as science fiction.” One of Avicenna’s most famous philosophical theories describes the human mind-body connection and how man has awareness of his own existence despite not knowing his surroundings or environment. In his “Floating Man” argument, Avicenna writes:

“Imagine, a man floating in a room with zero sensory input, no sound, no gravity, no sensation of any kind, floating in complete darkness, no sensation even of his own body because no part of his body touches any other part — say the man was created this way, would he be capable of thought? Can the human mind have thoughts without any external sensory input? If so, what would this man be thinking? Would the floating man have awareness of anything?”

Avicenna answers: “Yes, even though the man has no awareness of his environment, or anything external to himself, he would at least be aware of his own existence.” It’s interesting to note how this idea is a precursor to Rene Descartes’s famous philosophical statement: “I think, therefore I am.”

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my own existence and questioning what reality is. These existential thoughts are notorious for being looped-thoughts, i.e. it just keeps leading you back to where you started in the first place, until you just eventually go insane. But mysticism is different from existentialism because it emphasizes more on ideas that encourage us to reflect upon our self, who we are, where we are, and where we are going. I’m sure we’ve all thought strange things like “what if all of this is a dream?” or “what if nothing is real at all?” We get caught up in these questions that we almost become numb to feeling the Beauty that exists in our reality. This is one of the many reasons why I believe that if there is no Love, then reality is false. Without the heart being open and receptive to Love, reality is one big lie, one cannot see the Sun, smell the flowers, or hear the music. He may be breathing and thinking, but is he alive?

Like Avicenna’s floating man, we may be aware of our existence, but how many of us are cherishing the Beauties that Allah has created for all of us? People rush to school, rush to meet deadlines, rush to work, get stuck in rush hour every day, come home and eat, and then go to sleep, only to wake up the next morning and repeat the same process over again. Are these beings really alive if they have no knowledge of who they are, what their purpose is, and how to establish a relationship with God? By no fault of our own, we humans live in such a chaotic, operatic, and busy world. We try to say our prayers, we try to stay mindful, but those external forces tend to obstruct us from getting closer to our dreams. In the Holy Qur’an, God speaks of the Divine Signs and how there are always around us, and they not only exist in every Created thing, but also in the Unseen World — the World of Feeling. But what happens when someone finds that Great Love that we all long for, and then loses it to mystery? Does he/she fall only to rise up again, or does he/she become like the floating man: hanging in darkness, unaware of his surroundings, and trying to find his/her self again?

I want to smile. We all deserve to.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 39 other followers