Almost doesn’t count

Past – 3D (the sensory world is always the past)

Present – 5D (heart)

Future – 4D (mind)

The future is the accessing point into a new reality. It’s the transitory phase into a deeper layer of the present moment. The present moment isn’t time, it’s space. It’s a vessel that holds everything that Allaah has already created, just like a girl is born with all the eggs her body will ever produce in her lifetime.

The future isn’t female, the present moment is.

Loyal to a fault

I imagine I’ve developed comfort eating as a coping mechanism because in my belly there is a monster whose growls and tremors are felt as anxiety and fear, and I feed it stuff it likes to bribe it to sleep. I also avoid doing anything or going anywhere where it’ll lash out. It’s like I’m carrying a ticking bomb that could literally end my life, and I still don’t know where exactly it is or why it’s in me or if I’ll ever be able to live without calculating the weight of my footsteps to not trigger collapse.


I’m much better at perceiving and receiving than thinking and generating. I’m better with open-ended tasks where I have creative control of the process than goal-oriented and time limited top-down tasks.

It’s nearly impossible for me to read through a book unless I’ve been inspired to. It’s impossible for me to enroll at a course and make it through the first class. It’s impossible for me to be managed or supervised.

I need to have my vision trusted and I need space to do what I do best. Unless I can have that I won’t show you what I can do.

That’s what black light means to me. I can perceive the darkness because I let it seep into me and instead of being resisted with fear it’s met with an openness that gives it space and imbues it with connection. That connection is a black light – a hidden light that is felt but not seen.

I have this connection to everything and everyone within whom this latent presence hasn’t been perverted or distorted. Nature, the earth, nations, the events in the land. I can sense what the ground has experienced in some places. I receive vivid images and memories that aren’t mine from a very distant time and places that I don’t think exist on this earth.

I always had a keen sense of the cosmos but also a deep fear. I’ve written about this before, about an out of body experience I had when I was 4 that was triggered by my asking myself over and over again, who am I where did I come from what am I doing to here. I saw in the eye of my mind me floating into space and I panicked because I didn’t have a tether to pull myself back in and I feared getting lost in space if I went farther.

Last night I realized that the tether I’ve been seeking was Allaah. I’ve been seeking Him since I was 5. I understand I did this because I needed an anchor, a place to return to in order to not get lost in all that I observe and absorb. He’s my existential protection

I’m not interested in your words that undress me

Hijaab is about protecting one’s beauty, not enhancing it. To enhance implies a lack and a striving to accentuate to others what feels lackluster within. You don’t enhance something you embody, only something you idealize. The very feeling of not being good enough as is, is what’s harmful and not necessarily the methods of enhancement. So hijaab is not an externalization of the spiritual aspect in that one is protecting or dimming one’s beauty in the eyes of others so as not to draw attention. That mindset is still operating under the same assumption of the displacement of the self at the hands of others. It still places the locus of control on the outside.

Rather, hijaab is an external boundary to keep the profane and the mundane out, and to preserve the sacred feminine within. It’s to subvert the ways in which dominance establishes itself as an authority, by making a statement that waits for no answer. It’s self-defining and self-sustaining as it refuses to meddle in the pernicious nature of the lustful assessment of one’s being by others. Hijaab is a stopgap that prevents the internalization of conditionality and being consumed (by the gaze of others) in compartmentalized parts. It ties together the holism inherent to the divine feminine like a circle with no beginning or end. It’s a reminder that there is a hidden aspect to everything, and that sensory perception isn’t omniscient. It puts the mind in its lane and reminds it of its capacity because it was never meant to gauge and decipher the higher meanings of life. And the woman is a higher meaning of life.

A still from the romantic thriller Rebecca (1940). Directed by Alfred Hitchcock

Alienated from my light

Sometimes I like to hum loudly to drown out the howl of the biting wind whipping me in the face like this. I pray for an emotional calm as I trudge in this blizzard, seeking a faint light in the distant, a reassurance that I haven’t been swallowed whole by this storm. I stopped trying to warm my hands, curled up with cold, and I can feel my body slow down as a fog of despair starts moving through my mind ; what if I never find a way out of this? Am I just trying to postpone the inevitable?

Life, for me, is the most critical in these moments because if I stop I don’t think I’ll be able to recover the momentum to start back up again. Frantically searching for even a wisp of hope, a sign of life, flicking through the archive of my mind to see if I can recall if anyone has mentioned pushing past this threshold before. In my ears, my heartbeat is pulsating with the poisonous doubt that has entered my blood stream. I slow down as I’m flooded with the memories of all the times I persevered in vain and my efforts were for naught. I feel like a knot in my stomach shot up to my throat, like an inverse punch. Warmth spreads through me as I create a light out of the certain futility of trying. My tears well up and my nose is tickling with a cold sensation. I don’t see the blizzard anymore or hear the ferocious winds whipping past me. I feel like I’ve arrived, and I know I don’t have to suffer the expansive loneliness of this unending blizzard anymore.

I was not swallowed whole by the blizzard, but I helplessly succumbed to it. I calmly walked towards what had snuffed out my light.

Image : Cottage on an island near Nora, Sweden. By Jonas Loiske.

Stay little valentine

Life’s more bearable when you’re whole. The world will leave you alone if you leave it alone. Coexist peacefully but don’t move into it. There is no room for souls..

Less than Greek

I hold so much brutality in my mind towards my heart. I have to hide underground until the war is over. But I wonder what would be left of me then? Is any structure better than none? How can I contest it when I need verbal structure to contest it? And if I don’t, the backlash and lashes to my back will continue like a run-on sentence. Or at least that’s what the voice in my head tells me each time I’m about to sit one out. Don’t you dare do it, this can be over quickly by you just doing what you’re told or this can be a full blown war that’ll never end.. Your choice.

Of course, it’s never a choice. Fear is never a choice, it’s forced. And I fall for it every time because a life sentence is worse to me than a death sentence.

No more posts.