We have all had arguments and disagreements with our parents in the past. Different generations, different ways of perceiving, different expectations, and different priorities. I have heard my friends complain that their parents have tried to mould them into something they are not. A friend was forced to undertake a tertiary degree which she was not interested at all, and had to give up her passion. Another friend was demanded to purchase a property when he was still unsure what direction he wanted to take in his life. Then another friend was pressured into seeing many suitors because she has come to the age of marriage. I too have done several things that I do not particularly want to do, for the sake of satisfying my parents’ expectations.
I understand that parents wish for whatever is best for their children. But surely they should put more trust on their children, that they can make their own decisions? I often feel that many parents do not understand the needs and the passions of their children; they simply project their own experiences and values on their children. My most recent experience is that, I was told that I should focus more on my academic and professional progressions. Okay, I understand that such progressions may result in financial stability, which *may* help me attain happiness. That being said, I strongly believe that life is not all about being academically and professionally successful. I would like to be able to at least devote a portion of my time in social and community works. Apparently I was told that such works are currently unnecessary – because I am in my last semester, thus I have to focus on getting good grades. I understand what the argument comes from, but surely, I am not expected to spend my time to merely slave for my university and work commitments. That does not make me happy. I need that time, where I connect to other people, and help them if possible. The things that makes me feel that my life is not useless. My mark of existence. And I’ll tell myself, not to let my professional and academic commitments hinder prevent me from partaking at social activism. Now I am struggling a little bit to convey that, and I do hope, that they will understand what it is that gives me joy and happiness.
Anyhow, it makes me wonder, if one day I will become one of these parents who enforce my values and expectations on my children. Time will tell, but hopefully, I’ll be the one who helps them reach their potential.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
Monday, 29 August 2011
++ Grateful ++
Suddenly I recalled the conversation that I had with a homeless man when I was helping out at a local street café. Let’s just say he was in the position of receiving instead of giving. Then he made a remark which has seen been carved into my brain. He basically said how giving and helping others were concepts of luxury for him due to the struggle that he had to experience every day. Simply put, he cannot afford giving, and hence is forced to be selfish where he only thinks of his own good.
His statement now makes me think about the unfortunate ones. As someone who subscribes to a particular belief system (Islam), I thus think about what it is to be a good believer in God’s eyes for them. Upon reading the Qur’aan, I have always felt that it addresses the believers as if they are financially sufficient. Indeed there are various verses that talk about one’s being tried with poverty, but it reads with the idea that one has experienced abundance before. Then I wonder now, what about those who have been destitute for all their lives? They cannot give, and they may have to steal or even kill, to survive another day. What is it then, the essence of being a believer for them? From my present understanding of the Qur’aan, one part of being a believer is to be grateful of what they have. However, when one experiences hardship that is extreme, what is there to be grateful for? An example includes people who suffer from famine in East Africa, how are they expected to be grateful? Those children born into poverty and experience starvation in daily basis, how can they be taught to acknowledge the bounties of God?
*sighs*
I know I should just focus on my spiritual development, and try to contribute to developing the state of humanity. But from time to time, I cannot help but feeling unsettled. I am indeed fortunate, for the bounties that God has provided. Alhamdulillah.
His statement now makes me think about the unfortunate ones. As someone who subscribes to a particular belief system (Islam), I thus think about what it is to be a good believer in God’s eyes for them. Upon reading the Qur’aan, I have always felt that it addresses the believers as if they are financially sufficient. Indeed there are various verses that talk about one’s being tried with poverty, but it reads with the idea that one has experienced abundance before. Then I wonder now, what about those who have been destitute for all their lives? They cannot give, and they may have to steal or even kill, to survive another day. What is it then, the essence of being a believer for them? From my present understanding of the Qur’aan, one part of being a believer is to be grateful of what they have. However, when one experiences hardship that is extreme, what is there to be grateful for? An example includes people who suffer from famine in East Africa, how are they expected to be grateful? Those children born into poverty and experience starvation in daily basis, how can they be taught to acknowledge the bounties of God?
*sighs*
I know I should just focus on my spiritual development, and try to contribute to developing the state of humanity. But from time to time, I cannot help but feeling unsettled. I am indeed fortunate, for the bounties that God has provided. Alhamdulillah.
Sunday, 28 August 2011
I don’t know whether I should feel happy, or sad…
It feels like yesterday, that life was overwhelming me. Exhausting me, inside and out. Life is still hard, of course, but it has started to ease. I can still recall the time when I felt like I did not belong, that I had no place to call ‘home’. The time when I felt that I was living in an empty shell. The time when my ‘hello’ would be greeted by a cold silence. And you know, I would try to ‘escape’ somewhere else. I said, it was my ‘sanctuary’, so I could not leave, no, not yet. Even though we both knew I hated that place. It worn me out. Yet at the time, and not until recently, that I had no courage to step out.
The time has flown by, really fast, and many things have happened. I have broken the concrete wall, and have started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. That empty shell has started becoming a home, and the sound of silence no longer resonates. I no longer want to run away. I have said many times, that I did not find within me, love or emotional attachment. Well, things are different now. The storm, the resentment, and the negativity have calmed down. There has been this urge, to love and please. Something that I have not experienced before.
And just now, I bid farewell to the place where I called ‘sanctuary’. There is no longer a reason to need a sanctuary. There is no longer a need to work like there is no tomorrow. You used to keep telling me to stop, but I did not listen. And now I have stopped, I have no one to share the good news with. Such is the irony of life. But I am looking ahead for some peaceful times, watching the times unfold before my eyes with my beloved ones, or perhaps with the compassionate ones, God willing.
That being said, there have been some thorns along the way. The devil of the past caught me into its cycle a couple of times, and everything almost went down the drain. Thank God for a friend of faith that I managed to break free. And when I thought all misunderstanding had been cleared, it all came back to bite me. Distrust, suspicion and lack of understanding, have led to a broken friendship. It’s a pity, really. You know, I have always said, one of the things I am most passionate about as a muslim, is unity between believers. I often said, I am a 49:13 person! Well, that is still me, and nothing has changed that, but I have learnt that unity works both ways. I cannot force unity, if the other end neither desires it nor see its worth. When such circumstance happens, I guess I will have to move on.
Anyway, life is generally good. As I said in the beginning of the post, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad. I should be happy and grateful for the bounties that God has provided me. Then again, there is something missing from my life. Something that I now dearly miss.
So, old friend, you may not think much of me anymore, after what has been said (or not said), and done. But yeah, thank you for being there when I needed you. It has been blessing indeed to have known you. Peace.
And yes, I am really this stupid to get caught in silly nostalgia and write this note, which you’ll probably never read.
It feels like yesterday, that life was overwhelming me. Exhausting me, inside and out. Life is still hard, of course, but it has started to ease. I can still recall the time when I felt like I did not belong, that I had no place to call ‘home’. The time when I felt that I was living in an empty shell. The time when my ‘hello’ would be greeted by a cold silence. And you know, I would try to ‘escape’ somewhere else. I said, it was my ‘sanctuary’, so I could not leave, no, not yet. Even though we both knew I hated that place. It worn me out. Yet at the time, and not until recently, that I had no courage to step out.
The time has flown by, really fast, and many things have happened. I have broken the concrete wall, and have started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. That empty shell has started becoming a home, and the sound of silence no longer resonates. I no longer want to run away. I have said many times, that I did not find within me, love or emotional attachment. Well, things are different now. The storm, the resentment, and the negativity have calmed down. There has been this urge, to love and please. Something that I have not experienced before.
And just now, I bid farewell to the place where I called ‘sanctuary’. There is no longer a reason to need a sanctuary. There is no longer a need to work like there is no tomorrow. You used to keep telling me to stop, but I did not listen. And now I have stopped, I have no one to share the good news with. Such is the irony of life. But I am looking ahead for some peaceful times, watching the times unfold before my eyes with my beloved ones, or perhaps with the compassionate ones, God willing.
That being said, there have been some thorns along the way. The devil of the past caught me into its cycle a couple of times, and everything almost went down the drain. Thank God for a friend of faith that I managed to break free. And when I thought all misunderstanding had been cleared, it all came back to bite me. Distrust, suspicion and lack of understanding, have led to a broken friendship. It’s a pity, really. You know, I have always said, one of the things I am most passionate about as a muslim, is unity between believers. I often said, I am a 49:13 person! Well, that is still me, and nothing has changed that, but I have learnt that unity works both ways. I cannot force unity, if the other end neither desires it nor see its worth. When such circumstance happens, I guess I will have to move on.
Anyway, life is generally good. As I said in the beginning of the post, I don’t know whether I should be happy or sad. I should be happy and grateful for the bounties that God has provided me. Then again, there is something missing from my life. Something that I now dearly miss.
So, old friend, you may not think much of me anymore, after what has been said (or not said), and done. But yeah, thank you for being there when I needed you. It has been blessing indeed to have known you. Peace.
And yes, I am really this stupid to get caught in silly nostalgia and write this note, which you’ll probably never read.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
++ The Three Great Teachers ++
There are three great teachers who, I believe, have changed the way I approached life. Let’s rewind the tape of my life to where I was in Year 5. I was young and carefree, with no care about academic progression whatsoever. I can still recall the time when my mum found a stack of my exam papers, mostly with marks within the range of 20%-40%. She said a thing or two, which did give a slight electric shock. But the extra push, happened in one defining moment:
One fine morning, my maths teacher asked the class what would be the result of 3-5. Everyone looked confused, as they could not fathom how to deduct a greater number. My hand shot through the sky, and I confidently answered, “Negative two!” Everyone looked at me – they ought to have thought, “How the heck does a no-name kid know the answer?!” What I did not say, was that my mother asked me the exact same question the night before [which left me utterly confused too]. So to put it bluntly, everything was a fluke. An epic fluke.
The day went by, I became a center of attention for once in my life! But the horror came when it was lunch time. My maths teacher approached me, saying that he was so impressed with my maths ‘skills’, so he enrolled me in a maths competition. I almost crapped myself.
“You have a knack in maths,” He said. I was like, what the heck dude, the whole thing was just an epic fluke and I have no gift whatsoever! I did not say that out loud, of course. So there I was, standing petrified after being told that I would go for a maths competition. I started thinking, what if I bomb really badly in the competition? People would laugh at me! I would be disgraced! And many things were running through my mind. At the time, there was one thing that I had in me. Pride. I did not want to personally admit I could not do it. So I said to my maths teacher, I would do it, but I would need assistance. He smiled, and said, fantastic! I would tutor you maths outside class to prepare you for the competitions.
So the story goes, he fed me with so many maths questions. When I hit a brick wall, he would teach me how to treat maths as an entertaining game. He would show me some tricks and patterns when calculating numbers. In the end, I did come to a point that I actually thought maths was fun! I did go for the competitions, but only placed third. Anyway, from that moment on, I gained this drive to excel and wanted more. My grade steadily improved, and it was a pleasant surprise to know that I climbed from rank 24 to rank 3! I passed the end-of-primary school national exam (yes it exists!), and finished with a grade of 45.7 out of 50, and I could enroll to the high school I wanted. All thanks to that maths teacher who has introduced the joy of learning.
Fast forward to Year 12. That was one of the most stressful period in my life, as I was preparing for national exam. That was also my third year in Australia. I know three years is a long time, but for me, I was having an identity crisis. The culture shock was unbearable, and I was in denial. I think I felt quite different, and unable to fit in. I became introverted, and just used studying as my escape. Gaining academic achievement was the only thing I had in mind. To be honest, I did not quite understand what my ambitions were, and how I should use my skills to achieve these ambitions.
Until my teacher asked me a question,
“So, do you know what you want to become in the future?”
I answered, as a matter-of-factly, “Engineer”
He then added, “Engineer? Why?”
I thought for a second, “It runs in the family I guess.”
In which he curiously pursued, “So you actually WANT to become an engineer? Is that something you are passionate about?”
I did not really answer properly, and I gave a half-baked answer such “Well, maths is cool, and engineering is maths.”
Then he said, “I think you should do International Relations, or something to do with Communications?”
Whoa, that came totally out of nowhere. I mean, I thought I was a technical person who buried her head in maths book!
“You have a gift in language. I believe you can use that gift to connect to people, and make your life journey a meaningful one,” He advised.
I almost fell over. Dude, do you know who you’re talking to? I don’t have many friends, I am introverted. I spend my time calculating maths problems, and now you’re telling me to connect with people? Sure I like to have fiery debates in class when someone got on my nerve, but that does not mean I should being more immersed in language and communications!
He must have read what I was thinking and said, “Trust me. I know things you do not. That’s what I believe you should do.”
Anyway, I still stuck to Engineering, but based on his advice I also chose International Studies as another component of my degree.
The story unfolded, that whole Year 12 was an overwhelming one. But he was there to mentor and support me. I remember bursting out crying when I was about to breakdown, and he was there to tell me that he had faith in me. That I was strong enough to overcome everything.
So Year 12 concluded, and I came out practically sane. Now 7 years after, I realised the significance of the advice that he has made. He saw what was hiding inside, and helped me realise it. I do now have strong interest in languages, and communications. I don’t think I am introverted, and now I do get the joy out of connecting to people. If it was not for his advice and words of encouragement, I would probably not have considered doing social arts and would have remained introverted. You’d probably see me talking to lab instruments more than I would talk to people!
Then I graduated out of high school. I was a fresh first year university student then. There is one subject that drove me against the wall because I did not seem to get it. One day I was on the verge of breaking down because: it was already 5pm, and exam would be the next day and I was not understanding anything! Anyway, I tried to seek help from a lecturer, but he shot me down by saying, “Well, first I am not responsible in teaching you. Secondly I am busy so leave me alone.”
I was shocked, and I almost lost hope. It was already 5.30 and everything is falling down. Then in desperation, I saw the office of this lecturer still open. I was contemplating whether I should seek his help. I mean, it’s 5.30 and he must be busy! He’s a professor after all! I nervously knocked on his door, and he said, “Come in!”
Then I saw piles and piles of paper on his table. Damn, he IS busy. I thought.
“What can I help you?” He asked.
“Um, I was wondering if you could help me with this question because I don’t understand.” I nervously asked while showing him a past exam paper.
Seriously, I thought he would massacre me to pieces like the other lecturer. Really, he was busy and I was asking a freaking first-year question which would be like eating a piece of cake for him! I was struck by lightning when I said, “Sure.”
Then he spent about 15 minutes teaching me how to solve the question. I understood, and it was good.
When it was all finished and I was about to leave his office, I apologized for interrupting him as he looked busy.
He smiled and answered, “Yes I am busy. But students come first.”
His response has since been ingrained into my brain. Six years later, and now I am doing my thesis. From the beginning I had decided that he would become my supervisor. My friends advised me not to, because he is known to be an extremely busy lecturer who would not have time to see his students. I found that hard to believe, so I went on and asked him to supervise me. Which he agreed to.
Contrary to my friends’ advice, my lecturer was never too busy to see his students. When I told him I would start my thesis six weeks earlier, he was more than happy to set up weekly meetings to ensure I was on the right track.
So today, I finished work and headed straight to the appointment to discuss the progress of my thesis. After weeks and weeks of agonizing and tedious phone calls, I finally managed to set up an interview with security engineers who might be able to give me information related to my thesis. Thing is, the interview would be in three days. I would be pressed to come up with intelligent questions within that timeframe, knowing my schedule nowadays. So he suggested, do as many questions as possible by Sunday night. I will review them, and include some that I think will help you. I’ll have done it by Monday midday.
I was relieved. So we concluded the meeting, and scheduled another one in 11 days time. I made a comment on how busy he seemed (which he agreed), and remarked how I found it surprising that a professor in his caliber would spare time for me – I mentioned how some of my friends have never even seen their supervisors!
To which, he responded, “Well lucky for you, I am not one of those lecturers!”
I thanked him, for assisting me despite his busy schedule – he could have dumped me to focus on his projects! And he smiled,
“Well, students come first.”
I lightly chuckled. It was such a Déjà vu, from 6 years ago (it was roughly the same time too!).
I said, “It’s funny, you said the very same thing 6 years ago.” And I told him what I recounted from 6 years ago (he did not remember by the way).
He seemed amused that I would remember such a thing, and he said, “I must have meant it then. And I mean it.”
I don’t know how to explain – but it’s good that a teacher genuinely cares for his/her students. In a way, it becomes a motivation for me to prove that I am capable of producing high-quality works. Well, I may not be that good, but at least I will try so I will not disappoint him. Oh well, I guess I won’t settle just for a pass this time!
***
Teachers do have their contributions in shaping the students’ lives – and they are remembered. Well, at least I still remember all those tiny little evens that have changed me, or have given me a reason to do, or be something.
So, what has your most influential teacher done for your life?
One fine morning, my maths teacher asked the class what would be the result of 3-5. Everyone looked confused, as they could not fathom how to deduct a greater number. My hand shot through the sky, and I confidently answered, “Negative two!” Everyone looked at me – they ought to have thought, “How the heck does a no-name kid know the answer?!” What I did not say, was that my mother asked me the exact same question the night before [which left me utterly confused too]. So to put it bluntly, everything was a fluke. An epic fluke.
The day went by, I became a center of attention for once in my life! But the horror came when it was lunch time. My maths teacher approached me, saying that he was so impressed with my maths ‘skills’, so he enrolled me in a maths competition. I almost crapped myself.
“You have a knack in maths,” He said. I was like, what the heck dude, the whole thing was just an epic fluke and I have no gift whatsoever! I did not say that out loud, of course. So there I was, standing petrified after being told that I would go for a maths competition. I started thinking, what if I bomb really badly in the competition? People would laugh at me! I would be disgraced! And many things were running through my mind. At the time, there was one thing that I had in me. Pride. I did not want to personally admit I could not do it. So I said to my maths teacher, I would do it, but I would need assistance. He smiled, and said, fantastic! I would tutor you maths outside class to prepare you for the competitions.
So the story goes, he fed me with so many maths questions. When I hit a brick wall, he would teach me how to treat maths as an entertaining game. He would show me some tricks and patterns when calculating numbers. In the end, I did come to a point that I actually thought maths was fun! I did go for the competitions, but only placed third. Anyway, from that moment on, I gained this drive to excel and wanted more. My grade steadily improved, and it was a pleasant surprise to know that I climbed from rank 24 to rank 3! I passed the end-of-primary school national exam (yes it exists!), and finished with a grade of 45.7 out of 50, and I could enroll to the high school I wanted. All thanks to that maths teacher who has introduced the joy of learning.
Fast forward to Year 12. That was one of the most stressful period in my life, as I was preparing for national exam. That was also my third year in Australia. I know three years is a long time, but for me, I was having an identity crisis. The culture shock was unbearable, and I was in denial. I think I felt quite different, and unable to fit in. I became introverted, and just used studying as my escape. Gaining academic achievement was the only thing I had in mind. To be honest, I did not quite understand what my ambitions were, and how I should use my skills to achieve these ambitions.
Until my teacher asked me a question,
“So, do you know what you want to become in the future?”
I answered, as a matter-of-factly, “Engineer”
He then added, “Engineer? Why?”
I thought for a second, “It runs in the family I guess.”
In which he curiously pursued, “So you actually WANT to become an engineer? Is that something you are passionate about?”
I did not really answer properly, and I gave a half-baked answer such “Well, maths is cool, and engineering is maths.”
Then he said, “I think you should do International Relations, or something to do with Communications?”
Whoa, that came totally out of nowhere. I mean, I thought I was a technical person who buried her head in maths book!
“You have a gift in language. I believe you can use that gift to connect to people, and make your life journey a meaningful one,” He advised.
I almost fell over. Dude, do you know who you’re talking to? I don’t have many friends, I am introverted. I spend my time calculating maths problems, and now you’re telling me to connect with people? Sure I like to have fiery debates in class when someone got on my nerve, but that does not mean I should being more immersed in language and communications!
He must have read what I was thinking and said, “Trust me. I know things you do not. That’s what I believe you should do.”
Anyway, I still stuck to Engineering, but based on his advice I also chose International Studies as another component of my degree.
The story unfolded, that whole Year 12 was an overwhelming one. But he was there to mentor and support me. I remember bursting out crying when I was about to breakdown, and he was there to tell me that he had faith in me. That I was strong enough to overcome everything.
So Year 12 concluded, and I came out practically sane. Now 7 years after, I realised the significance of the advice that he has made. He saw what was hiding inside, and helped me realise it. I do now have strong interest in languages, and communications. I don’t think I am introverted, and now I do get the joy out of connecting to people. If it was not for his advice and words of encouragement, I would probably not have considered doing social arts and would have remained introverted. You’d probably see me talking to lab instruments more than I would talk to people!
Then I graduated out of high school. I was a fresh first year university student then. There is one subject that drove me against the wall because I did not seem to get it. One day I was on the verge of breaking down because: it was already 5pm, and exam would be the next day and I was not understanding anything! Anyway, I tried to seek help from a lecturer, but he shot me down by saying, “Well, first I am not responsible in teaching you. Secondly I am busy so leave me alone.”
I was shocked, and I almost lost hope. It was already 5.30 and everything is falling down. Then in desperation, I saw the office of this lecturer still open. I was contemplating whether I should seek his help. I mean, it’s 5.30 and he must be busy! He’s a professor after all! I nervously knocked on his door, and he said, “Come in!”
Then I saw piles and piles of paper on his table. Damn, he IS busy. I thought.
“What can I help you?” He asked.
“Um, I was wondering if you could help me with this question because I don’t understand.” I nervously asked while showing him a past exam paper.
Seriously, I thought he would massacre me to pieces like the other lecturer. Really, he was busy and I was asking a freaking first-year question which would be like eating a piece of cake for him! I was struck by lightning when I said, “Sure.”
Then he spent about 15 minutes teaching me how to solve the question. I understood, and it was good.
When it was all finished and I was about to leave his office, I apologized for interrupting him as he looked busy.
He smiled and answered, “Yes I am busy. But students come first.”
His response has since been ingrained into my brain. Six years later, and now I am doing my thesis. From the beginning I had decided that he would become my supervisor. My friends advised me not to, because he is known to be an extremely busy lecturer who would not have time to see his students. I found that hard to believe, so I went on and asked him to supervise me. Which he agreed to.
Contrary to my friends’ advice, my lecturer was never too busy to see his students. When I told him I would start my thesis six weeks earlier, he was more than happy to set up weekly meetings to ensure I was on the right track.
So today, I finished work and headed straight to the appointment to discuss the progress of my thesis. After weeks and weeks of agonizing and tedious phone calls, I finally managed to set up an interview with security engineers who might be able to give me information related to my thesis. Thing is, the interview would be in three days. I would be pressed to come up with intelligent questions within that timeframe, knowing my schedule nowadays. So he suggested, do as many questions as possible by Sunday night. I will review them, and include some that I think will help you. I’ll have done it by Monday midday.
I was relieved. So we concluded the meeting, and scheduled another one in 11 days time. I made a comment on how busy he seemed (which he agreed), and remarked how I found it surprising that a professor in his caliber would spare time for me – I mentioned how some of my friends have never even seen their supervisors!
To which, he responded, “Well lucky for you, I am not one of those lecturers!”
I thanked him, for assisting me despite his busy schedule – he could have dumped me to focus on his projects! And he smiled,
“Well, students come first.”
I lightly chuckled. It was such a Déjà vu, from 6 years ago (it was roughly the same time too!).
I said, “It’s funny, you said the very same thing 6 years ago.” And I told him what I recounted from 6 years ago (he did not remember by the way).
He seemed amused that I would remember such a thing, and he said, “I must have meant it then. And I mean it.”
I don’t know how to explain – but it’s good that a teacher genuinely cares for his/her students. In a way, it becomes a motivation for me to prove that I am capable of producing high-quality works. Well, I may not be that good, but at least I will try so I will not disappoint him. Oh well, I guess I won’t settle just for a pass this time!
***
Teachers do have their contributions in shaping the students’ lives – and they are remembered. Well, at least I still remember all those tiny little evens that have changed me, or have given me a reason to do, or be something.
So, what has your most influential teacher done for your life?
Friday, 19 August 2011
++ Enlightened ++
Over the past few months, I have been feeling quite depressed. I guess it's the matter of the heart, and to escape the painful feeling, I worked and worked like there was no tomorrow. I guess it was a way of keeping me busy. But the impact was quite significant, I became too immersed in pursuing worldly affairs and in the end, I became less caring about improving my spiritual awareness. It then turned into a domino effect, as this made me think that I was not good enough, I was unworthy - so why bother?
Anyway, things changed when I decided to stop for a couple of days. Forget about work, forget about study! So, I chilled out at my university, and caught up with my old friends. There was a defining moment, when someone suggested that I looked into another belief system, and its scripture. Well maybe I was bored, or maybe there was a little push from the Supreme Being, that I actually thought, the heck why not!
So I read. I explored their arguments why their belief system is the truth. I examined how they implement their belief system, and what makes a believer.
And guess what?
The more I read about their depiction of God, the more I believe in the Oneness of God. The Indivisible.
The more I read their scripture, the more I believe in the Qur'an.
The more I read into their belief system, the more I believe in Islam.
You don't need physical miracles to believe. And I realise the merit of the Qur'an that very day. Miracles don't matter, because Truth prevails over falsehood. What I love, and become more appreciative by the day, is that it simply is not about what you believe, but how you implement your belief. It is not simply about worshipping God for what He has done for us, it is about being grateful to God by doing service to humanity. Yes, we humans are imperfect, but that is our nature. It's what we do to cover our imperfections that really matters.
So my spirit is way up now, and nothing can bring me down now. I am looking forward to what I can do in many years to come <3
Anyway, things changed when I decided to stop for a couple of days. Forget about work, forget about study! So, I chilled out at my university, and caught up with my old friends. There was a defining moment, when someone suggested that I looked into another belief system, and its scripture. Well maybe I was bored, or maybe there was a little push from the Supreme Being, that I actually thought, the heck why not!
So I read. I explored their arguments why their belief system is the truth. I examined how they implement their belief system, and what makes a believer.
And guess what?
The more I read about their depiction of God, the more I believe in the Oneness of God. The Indivisible.
The more I read their scripture, the more I believe in the Qur'an.
The more I read into their belief system, the more I believe in Islam.
You don't need physical miracles to believe. And I realise the merit of the Qur'an that very day. Miracles don't matter, because Truth prevails over falsehood. What I love, and become more appreciative by the day, is that it simply is not about what you believe, but how you implement your belief. It is not simply about worshipping God for what He has done for us, it is about being grateful to God by doing service to humanity. Yes, we humans are imperfect, but that is our nature. It's what we do to cover our imperfections that really matters.
So my spirit is way up now, and nothing can bring me down now. I am looking forward to what I can do in many years to come <3
Wednesday, 17 August 2011
++ Home ++
A house is not a home. Last spring, one would find me utter those words and understand what I had been through. Well, I did have a home back then, but it just was not the empty shell where I was dwelling at. It was something different; something I could neither touch nor behold, but I knew it was there. It was a place of comfort and tranquility. It gave me a reason to smile, to laugh, and strangely enough, to be ‘small’. That I no longer needed to appear strong; that it was okay to be weak, and to be what a human is.
Yes, I had a house and a home. But alas, that home I loved is no longer there; for life wanted me to have a home somewhere else. Frankly, everything has been a strange turn of events. The house, that was unbearable cold, has begun to exude warmth. It may not yet be a home, but I no longer feel hollow within.
I know, I know. I am not making any sense at all. You may wonder what has compelled me to write such a cryptic post. Perhaps it was due to my encounter with three individuals in the past week. Three different beings, three different professions, three different places, three different characters, but one thing in common. And through this one thing, I was able to connect with these people in the most amazing way.
Yes, that home of the past might have forever closed its door on me. But I did leave me with a key. A key to open many other homes for years to come. The homes that are people. I am grateful, though sometimes nostalgia lingers, and I wish I could rest in that home just one more time!
Yes, I had a house and a home. But alas, that home I loved is no longer there; for life wanted me to have a home somewhere else. Frankly, everything has been a strange turn of events. The house, that was unbearable cold, has begun to exude warmth. It may not yet be a home, but I no longer feel hollow within.
I know, I know. I am not making any sense at all. You may wonder what has compelled me to write such a cryptic post. Perhaps it was due to my encounter with three individuals in the past week. Three different beings, three different professions, three different places, three different characters, but one thing in common. And through this one thing, I was able to connect with these people in the most amazing way.
Yes, that home of the past might have forever closed its door on me. But I did leave me with a key. A key to open many other homes for years to come. The homes that are people. I am grateful, though sometimes nostalgia lingers, and I wish I could rest in that home just one more time!
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