The arts of life (an hour or two)

I had got the National Express coach back from London. I took the early coach, because I arrived early. The bus driver was mad and didn't care if I even had a ticket. Actually when I first asked him if I could get on this earlier bus he just ignored me and walked off. I stared blankly at his back before following him. Someone else said "You won't get any help from him, he's moody!" at which point the man turned around, I asked him if I could get on, and he almost immediately said yes.

So on the bus back to my beloved brighton, I listened to a CD that a sister, a friend, and big fan of this website, had just sent to me through the post. It was a lecture by this nice dude called Muhammad Alshareef. He was talking about the importance of getting yourself in the spiritual frame of mind, or as he called it, the "Iman (faith) Rush Zone!" which, combined with his slightly Californian accent, often made him sound a little like an infomercial guy. Nevertheless, what he was saying was really beneficial, and in many ways quite profound. I won't go into all of it now because this is not the purpose of this writing. But the underlying message I took from it was, not only that one should spend more time thinking of spiritual things and of God (which is a message you can never hear enough) but that you (in this case Muslims) should be going to the Mosque to do this, because the Mosque provides you with a place where you can escape, take a break as he put it, from the ordinary world, and escape to the infinite and spiritual (I'm using my own words here but that was his message really).

And so in my window seat the sun shined on me. It was somewhere, roughly around 7:30 in the evening (it's 9:48 as I type this), the sun was still declining, with power. The words had an effect on me. The mind wanders as it does, and I noticed myself becoming critical of the ever so slight and subtle flaws I detected in his lecture or speaking-style, only to recognise it for what it was; a cursed thought that lifts you right up and out of the depth of some ones message (and possibly benefiting from it) and then drops you right into another pot which consists of shallow and superficial criticism of someone that gives you no benefit whatsoever. Needless to say I silenced the thought the one or two times it occurred to me. The nicer way I sometimes drifted off was by noticing those huge daisies that only seem to grow on motorways in England this time of year. I remember this time last year, when I was still a University student, cycling to my campus for an exam, seeing these same overgrown daisies, being amazed at their extravagance. "What a nerve! Who told them they could be that pretty?" At the same time, "What a creation! What a Creator!" Nature is a pleasant distraction, because it can link back to anything that you are currently involved in superficially, at least it can for me. In this case the dude is talking, I should be listening (even if he's talking on a CD!) so once I stare out at the clouds and become conscious a few seconds later that I've drifted off, I can easily link the infinite and ambiguous (but wholly positive) feelings that those clouds give me to something that he is saying at that second. I can't give you an example; you'll just have to accept it. And if you can't accept, then I feel sad! Sad for you, I say!

I got off at Brighton after a two-hour plus journey, and walked along the windy windy promenade of my beach, of my beautiful town. I knew that the sunset was near, and therefore I knew that I would be making a right at the Mosque and going into it to pray. The last week or so I had prayed the sunset prayer at home. But I took the man's advice from the CD and went to the Mosque today. And I thought to myself, if that guy (Mr. Alshareef) knew I'd gone to the Mosque because of him, he'd be happy. I'd be that one person he reached, just like I say, if, through my writing or music, I can influence people in a positive way, or even one person, then I'll feel satisfied (although, God forgive me, I am greedy and want to influence everyone, not just one!) So being an internet literate dude, it would give me great pleasure if he came across this one day.

The prayer was wonderful. Travelling always makes my feet hot, even if I do take my shoes off on the coach. So before prayer I sat down on the lovely custom-made cleansing areas that all Mosques have (I'm saying that for the benefit of non-Muslims- must sound quite funny to Muslims, 'Cleansing areas!!!') and there was the most beautiful young boy washing his face and hands next to me. I've seen him around before, and I like his dad, he could even be Afghan, although he'd be from the North because they both have those eyes which suggest they're from near the border with China. I was about to go to the hot taps, since its usually preferable to wash myself, and my bare feet! in hot water, especially with such a wind outside, but upon seeing this boy on the cold-tap side, I went to sit next to him. The kid used the liquid soap, pushed down fast (vigorously is the word!) a couple of times and rubbed his hands together so quickly until the foam came (I think they call it 'making a lather' on the back of all those soap and shampoo bottles) but it was the way this kid did it, so strong and quick. You have to bear in mind that I've already given up trying to specifically describe to you how perfect he was, how cute and how soulful. I just take it for granted that you will imagine for yourself what the softest, kindest and most unassuming-looking little child would look like. So that was nice.

I ended up sitting next to his dad and we prayed together. Prayers were good, deep, and so I won't go into them anymore than that. Just picture that there are universes inside you that you don't know about until you have gone through the motions of praying in that particular way, saying those words with those physical movements. It's something that defies centuries and transcends time when it's done right.

I walked out of the Mosque amidst two happy Arabic kids laughing with each other, again, sounding like adults. Seeming like adults. Perhaps it's me. After all, two of the sisters I am working on (for the project that I was in London for in the first place) said to me on the tube (underground train) today that I seemed like the youngest of all of them, even though I was actually the oldest. The brothers laughed at that too as I hanged off the handlebars making funny faces. So maybe I see the adult side of kids because I'm a kid-adult? Who cares, I won't try to analyse it!

Walking up to my house then, which is five minutes away, and two roads up, I felt good. The sky was darkening, as it tends to do after sunset. But when you've noticed the clear demarcation between day and night, and when you've spent that essential time between daylight and nightfall in deep meditation, you feel good seeing the night's sky. As opposed to other nights when I have not prayed and felt a sadness that "it's already night" as if the nightfall somehow signified a wasted day, even though on such occasions it was I who was responsible for wasting the day!

I then saw a very bald and very red (in the way that English people get in the sun!) man who looked a bit scruffy, talking to someone else who looked a bit smarter and had glasses. The scruffy bald man in the leather jacket pointed to his friend aggressively and said "I will knock her out, I will f---in' knock her out!" at which point I began to think that maybe he was red because of anger, not the sun. His friend, revealing more of a middle-class demeanour, very reasonable retorted, "I hope you do Frank, I hope you do, but while you're at it, try to get some information on..." I walked off and didn't hear the rest. I ignored it; it was two seconds of my life. The only subsequent thought I had on it was that it made an interesting contrast to the positivity of that beautiful boy in the Mosque.

At the top of the road, I noticed from the corner of my eye, without looking, someone who needed money. He was walking down the road whilst I walked up, and he was on the other side of the road. But I knew it. You notice these people in Brighton, without looking at them at all, you know them, because of how they walk, the clothes they were. There's a kind of desperation in their walk, which all too often signifies that they're also drunk. The inevitable "hey mate" came as we passed the same space. He crossed the road and I turned around to see the guy who I went to school with. He laughed loudly when he saw me, the kind of loud where you know someone's not right. He gave me a huge hug, the kind of hug that feels weird when you were never really friends with someone in school, a little too tight to be sincere. A little too sincere to be sincere maybe? But he was a nice guy. He'd fallen asleep in the park he said, my beloved St. Annes Well Park where I often take walks. He needed money for the bus. I did reach into my pockets but I only had 3 pennies, which was actually a shame because I wanted to give him something. He hugged me five more times before he finally said goodbye, and as I walked off he said "Oi, Yoshi, make as much money as you can, and ---- as many birds (women) as you can!" And I did my best to smile and nodded half-heartedly. He was never my friend at school, and I automatically dismissed what he had said, because all it really indicated was that he didn't know me very well at all. I did feel bad for him though. I'd seen him before hanging around the area where old drunk men hang around. Not the place for someone my age.

I came home, took my shoes off, then I typed this. Now I'm typing this. This. And this.

Such is life, a journey between miniature visions of heaven and hell. Do good deeds, don't speak ill of people, and be thankful for the journeys that you take in life, and thankful to those who, if you trace back your actions, have been in some way responsible for helping you take those journeys. In this case, my sis' from Canada sent me that CD out of the kindness in her heart, and I had a great experience as a result of the advice the brother gave on the CD. Even more than that, my sis from London, another fan of this site, was the reason I was involved in this project in the first place! So I wouldn't even have been returning from London had it not been for her. So so so.

The grand design is free, and we can study it if we pay attention. And with minds deeper than yours or mine, we can find all kinds of subtle lessons in the space of just one hour of human living. And we can all be that deep if we train our minds to pay attention to the human events that surround us everyday. I'm a bit of a silly one, but I hope to be better trained in the arts of life. For me, meditation, remembrance of God and prayer are the key elements in helping me better appreciate life, and better comprehend the lessons one can learn.

Y.Misdaq aka Yoshi
22nd May 2005 / 13th day of Rabi` Al-Thani, 1426