REPORT A PROBLEM
A Mystical Leaf of Sufi Afro Zen
A journey to the brotherhood is a journey to the root of the loving heart, which is a journey to truth and light.
Blast to the past and I found letters written to me by my ex and letters I wrote her when we were what we called so in love. We never thought that we would see the day that we were separated, yet here we are thousands and thousands of miles away.
It was a cloudy day today, which usually makes me feel gloomy and depressed. It's usually the time I'm trying to get focused and more organized.
It went something like this, as my memory seemed to fade from myriad multi colors, to gloomy greys and eventually pitch darkness.
Is this what alzheimers disease is like and memory loss?
I took the 325 to Hougang Central to check the status of my bank account. Not so bad, but nothing compared to a rich mans bank account or even a so called middle class bank account.
I was more like the symbolic animal on the bottom of the totem pole, but glad like the humble hermit residing in the secret forest called Om, that no one knew about.
I need to free myself from this sadness and sorrow about having to leave from Asia and having to travel thousands of miles away all alone.
Thunder had instilled fear into his hand maiden.
I told her that though I am departing soon, don't see this as the end.
That we must remember who the Author of our life story is, and that it isn't over until He says it's over.
In deeper analysis of our lives in this lifetime was equivalent to us as being just like characters in a book waiting patiently for our fate in the story.
I went to the Istiqamah mosque for jumuah prayers which may very well be my last jumuah prayers in Temasek.
I was quite sure that nothing would go wrong today, but if loving you is wrong I don't want to be right, as crazy and twisted as that may seem. True love has its ways.
Sometimes it is desperate, and sometimes it is the patience of a billion years.
In the end, the true flame of love never perishes or diminishes its warm glow.
It only intensifies until it is as bright as the Sun giving life to germinating seeds.
I did not sleep at all last night as I was busy sorting through stacks of the Berita Minggu and the Berita Harian for Malay poetry called sajak.
I had my last taste of neneks curry chicken and was given an unknown amount of cash in a green envelope for my farewell journey.
My wife said she had apologized for all the bad things she had done.
That comment alone began the process of my battle wounds to be healed and pent up frustrations deep down inside of my heart.
It was difficult for me to say goodbye to nenek.
Before I awoke completely from my sleep I felt myself being in a state of suspended animation where I felt myself being receptive to everything. When I tried to pinpoint where exactly I was experiencing the receptiveness I lost the feeling.
I still have not packed my bags yet and doubt I can take every book I desire with me on my international flight.
Adyana seems to be ok about me leaving and is the only one who has not cried as of yet in this house.
It's to late to change my mind.
Unless I get some profound revelations.
I explained to my little princess that I would not see her tomorrow, and that it would be awhile til we met again.
I did a good job of not crying in front of her as she asked me to read her Mooty Saves a Life. As she dozed off to sleep, tears streamed down the sides and front of my face.
I cherished the drawing she made me of two tall yellow flowers, a tree, a Sun and a house that seemed to have a sad expression.
Maybe the house symbolized her.
I dreamed about Ya Sin and Quran.
I wanted to cancel my ticket, but the office was closed. No choice but to fly the friendly skies with United Airlines.
I'm back at the airport where it all began, but seemed like the end.
I would of been all alone if not accompanied by my wife.
She took a photo of the two of us and as I looked at the photos I was phantomed by how deep I was able to look into my eyes which was like a deep abyss of pure sadness.
I managed to do Fajr prayers near gate C22 before the plane left.
So here I am in the high mountains of Colorado. Everything seems different compared to the last time I was here nearly four years ago, but some things still look the same.
Went down to my old job to fill out an applicaton and straight to the drug testing center.
In my first run they were not satisfied with the amount of urine in the cup.
I was forced to drink more than 10 cups of water and I heard of a true story where someone died in a water drinking contest.
My last try was more than enough urine.
Is that all you got?
Is this all you can remember?
If it were not for journals and journal writing on paper,
our daily experiences,
it would be nearly impossible to recount what we did on each day out of 365 days.
We might not remember the events that transpired last week.
Is it really necessary to remember since it already happened?
Holding on to the past can be a heavy burden leading to a migraine.
Don't worry, things will be okay, means to simply let it go.
Whatever is bothering you or weighing you down to the bottomless pit.
Today was my first Jumah prayer in Colorado at the Islamic Center of Abu Bakr Sadiq. Here the khutbahs are always in English and Arabic.
The Imam was what I assumed to be a white man with a long red beard.
The fact that he was white was not an issue to me, but it suprised me because I never heard a khutbah given by a white man.
In the evening I saw the mystical Muslimah again.
Seeing her was like seeing a vision in the Far East, in a desert of unknown paradise like a mirage, yet so real.
Before I turned the rental car in today, I drove through the neighborhood of the fierce faced people. I blamed their angry faces on poverty and lack of wisdom, and lack of knowledge of self.
I felt weird having to have to walk to the nearest bus stop and going to my temporary home.
My burden was lifted slightly as I managed to make some home made fish tacos. It is sad that four years after 2003 all the Mexican restaurants that were once free of pork and lard has become the main menu.
They won't see my face anymore.
I remember this area before when I had left Colorado.
Now I live close to a Jewish mortuary, book store, Wild Oats, and a 7-11.
I'm trying to figure out where I fit mathematically here in Colorado. Where is my niche here and what is the real reason I came back here again?
Tonight is my first time working equalling a total of 64 days that I have not worked.
I will have to wait two weeks before I get my first check which will not be a full check.
Waiting two weeks is better than waiting for one month.
I changed 100 Brunei dollars at the money changer, but he had to make a phone call to ask if it was okay, because he never heard of Brunei, nor did he know where it was.
The Brunei dollar is slighlty higher than the Singapore dollar today.
I had no ride to work tonight and wasn't expecting rain which is entirely different than the rain in South East Asia. Here in Colorado the rains were tribulative and cold as ice. So cold that I wondered why it was not snowing.
My family has told me not to lose focus here.
This morning it was very cold and my memory was refreshed as to the reason why I left Colorado in the first place.
I went to Wild Oats to get some blueberry scones made by this beautiful baker. I know that she was slightly older than me, but deeper observations saw something youthful and beautiful inside, almost flirtatious like a flickering fire.
I had to regain my consciousness as Smokey the Bear said "don't play with fire."
Each bite of her blueberry scones were like magic with a nice cup of pure Organic Valley milk.
Would I see her again?
In order to activate my 30 day trial offer to check out my credit report, I had to answer some questions by some woman who had a Russian with a slight Albanian accent.
"I just need to ask you a few questions," she said.
I imagined her as a brunette with red lipstick smoking a cigarette with a shot glass on the table and a bottle of vodka, heavy black eye liner and some sexy black dress she wears to the bars.
Of course my perceptions could be wrong.
Then I was supposed to know all my previous known addresses.
After getting off work this morning I stayed in downtown because I had an orientation class around 08:00. It was mandatory, though I worked here before.
During lunch everyone was invited to eat at the employee cafeteria, where the food is dreadful. You can't tell what is what, or if it's safe to eat.
I chose to stop by Virgin records and Barnes and Nobles bookstore. I wondered why they didn't have one single book on Islam, in the religious section. I didn't have time to ask the manager as to why.Don't tell me because of Osama bin Laden.
It's too bad I owe the library money from four years ago of over due fines, because I can't checkout any books, and I saw plenty that I thirsted for and desired.
Things have changed at the library. If you want to use the internet, you have to make a reservation, which could be a wait for as long as thirty minutes to over an hour.
I managed to check my credit and found all kinds of bogus things on there that I never had any business with.
I'm sure my social security number has been used and recycled abundantly.
The only thing really worth thinking about and reflecting on is Allah (God), everything else will prove to be irrelevant.
I'm down to my last eight dollars, which has to last me until next Friday. I am already prepared to eat just rice and drink only water if I have to. If things get drastic I will have no choice but to fast.
I find myself being dissapointed ten times more than the last time I was here in Babylon, regarding how my people are so lost and still have not found direction, when direction is staring dead at them.
I walked all the way from my job up 13th Street to Colorado Blvd. Some marathon was going on down Colfax, supposingly the longest street in America.
I walked down 13th Street towards the East getting closer and closer to the Sun. The birds were intent on following me and we conversed together in the language of God.
Pure poetry that spoke to nature.
The flowers below and the stars above.
There are probably galaxies spread throughout our Universe like grains of sand. As deep and mysterious the crow is, it answered in silence with an absolute yes.
It didn't take long for it to dawn on me, that the security man at the library with dreadlocks was really working for the Central Intelligence Agency and that the man sitting in the Parks and Recreation vehicle was working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
It is fact that nothing is as it seems and you don't really know who is who.
Who are the angels, who is God, who is the beast, who are the clones, who are aliens, and who you can trust and not trust.
In this day and age in time seek a higher power.
It's funny that I have lived in the United Snakes for the majority of my life and I don't know the first thing to do if I wanted to become a citizen here.
Most will say why bother if you were already born here.
Not bothering to know is the blow that will keep you in ignorance and darkness.
I wanted to put my feet in the shoes of a immigrant.
To feel their hopes and aspirations in living in a country that promises gold, nice homes and fancy cars.
I wanted to see how they were duped into believing.
Shut the pirate radios down, because the god in which they trust strongly and highly forbids freedom of expression, and messages of Truth reverberating through the air waves feeding the organic aspects of the human mind.
There is this song called Glamorous and one of the lyrics says something like "if you don't have no money, take your broke ass home."
The message is basically saying that money is the basis of all life and that our focus should be on the attainment of money so that we can drink champagne in first class on some plane destined to hell.
We think we are so safe and secure with bars on our windows like a prison. With alarms for intruders, so called secured passwords, and firewalls on our computers, a couple of dogs in our backyard and so on.
Our privacy is invaded on all kinds of levels.
Satellites can beam down and listen, so called Government agencies can tap into your computers and check your email unauthourized, listen to intimate phone conversatons and know things about your personal life you never desired.
Does this make you feel safe and secured?
Does this make you feel trustworthy towards your Government?
I found it hilarious that the banker expected me to pay five dollars to cash a check that was from their bank.
On top of this, since I did not have an account with them, I would have to pay them five dollars everytime they cashed my check.
If this is not highway robbery, I don't know what is.
Maybe this explains why so many banks are robbed.
They are trying to get the big pay back.
I'm coming more to my intuitive senses here and the zen states.
I am seeing more of the pseudo fake characters and notions.
What is real?
I ask this question often and get the same answer everytime.
Real is what we make real to be and what we believe real to be, even if it is a lie.
However, a lie can never be true and will never have a foundation or roots to trace its originality.
A lie will take truth and mix it with falsehood producing illusions.
It's sad but true, when you leave your house and look outside you see more illusions than truth.
The sad case is that we believe that the illusion is the truth when it's not.
I was reading an article where astrophysicist have discovered yet another phenomenom in our Universe that they have called dark matter, or dark energy.
It is the opposite of gravity and it is pushing everything in our Universe further and further away.
Once they think they have figured it all out, something else slaps them in the face.
I'm not suprised about their findings, because I know of a Black man who was speaking about Black matter, way before quanta was considered an ideal.
As time progresses on, the world will bear witness that a Messenger came and spoke truth.
I found a new way home.
I'm a rebel...
Last time the train only went one way. Now it goes in three different directions.
From the train to my bus stop I found several Middle Eastern restaurants and a market.
Here in Colorado it's still not developed like major big cities.
I get the Old, Old, West feeling in here.
Several of the buildings here are very old.
Exploring and trying new things is good for the heart and soul.
A release of trapped loneliness was good for me as I inhaled the majestic mountains.
Sitting at the coffee shop sipping my coffee and writing my words.
Cops have upgraded from drinking 7-11 coffee and Winchells Doughnuts to Starbucks. Their salary must be higher than before. The coffee makes them more eager to arrest someone.
To my right some bald headed asshole was talking to his female colleague about some adjectives he had that were sticky and explosive. His words were not music to my ears and almost made me sick to my stomach.
"So do you agree to this million dollar proposition Sally Sue," (
probably not her real name
) he said arrogantly and snobbishly.
If you're having problems trying to find something to write about, don't sit on your ass all day. Get up and do something bizarre or out of the ordinary.
I started reading some poems from Nicaragua today, but not because I wanted something to write about.
It's because I love poetry. Poetry is something I don't read enough of, and there is tons of written poems on almost every subject we can think of.
If I were a poet, my poems would be about the struggles of life, enlightment, creation and our cosmic universe including the various states of consciosness.
The winds respond to the mythical,
as he walks this path,
the winds brush his cosmic hairs like the wool of wolves.
No need for sacred peyote in this emptiness and mysterious state of being, which is so obvious, even to divine messengers from that distant world called........
Walk this unknown path, knowing that nothing really matters as you realize that you will reach the final destination, regardless to what direction you may take.
The deer walks this path also,
the eyes reflect the center of our Milky Way Galaxy.
Infinitely connected to the mystery and beyond the spiraled Mystery.
The Tip Jar