But what is worship?

The Holy Quran says that we -men and Jinn- are created to worship God; “Ma Khalaqna al Jin wal Ins illa le ya3bodoun.” I wonder what worship or “3ebada” means in context of this verse. Is it servitude or is it the kind of worship that we refer to in our desire to describe unconditional, devoted, complete, ego-less love?

It’s  not the same.

But if it’s love, is it the love for God only that we’re supposed to be directing our passion towards? Do we have to love everything through God, in God, for God? Is it possible to do it otherwise anyway if we believe that God is all-encompassing?

What about hatred in the name of God? How does this come into the equation? Are we here to hate for God as well? Is this “3ebaba” too? And if it’s not, is it possible to hate outside of God?

Some say that we are created so that we can live and choose to return to God, by will, and so glorify him as such and bask in his glory too. Perhaps.

If only I could remember the exact deal that I struck in “3alam al-thar,” it would have been much easier. Sometimes, I grasp the feeling of how it was like to be there but the memory quickly escapes me. I’m trying hard to squeeze my mind, my “fitra,” delve into the pool of our collective unconscious and remember. But most times, memory fails me.

My only solace is that I’m on a journey to rememberance.

And when I remember (and I will), I’ll try to contain my excitement and rush back here as quickly as I can and tell you what happened there years, and years, and years ago before time was created, or perhaps shortly after that.

Laugh like an infidel

For a while, I’d taken the idea of “al-Tashabuh bel Kufar” for granted; something that the good, sweet, pious Muslims should not be doing. “Kokha,” as a traditional Egyptian would simply say.

Well, not until everything that most people did had been branded as “tashabuh” did I start to question the whole concept. This was back in college. But the memory haunts me.

For some people, the line to where a normal, accepted, and a needed conduct of behavior, speech patterns or dress code ends and where “tashabuh” begins is disturbingly blured.

Same as with “Tashabuh bel Regal/Rijal.” But this is a different story.

Revision with a capital R is a word I should write on my forehead as I walk the streets of Cairo, and perhaps the Arab World, in protest.

I end this undeveloped, incomplete note with a loud -almost spooky- laugh that is not unlike that of villians’ in 40’s and 50’s movies – a laugh void of “7ayaa,” just like the infidels’ except that it’s the only laugh that I have, and so I claim it as my own.

Blog, blog, blog

An acquaintance had once told me that he believed that a blog should have a statement, should be political and should not be about personal feelings, cats and dogs, and what a person has done today.

Who is to say that one’s pets and complaining about a crappy mood is a non-statement? Who has an authority to judge anyway? A personal space is just that. And it should not be undermined in the name of politics, big words and “important” statements?

Let this be a call for all to stop acting like adults or at least leave the ones who are still children, free and open, to blog whichever way they choose.

I choose to write about non-sense and God be my witness. If it offends anyone, or sickens the open-minded intellectuals and free-thinkers, then I beseech them to simply click the virtual button marked “x”at the far right corner of their screens and let the argument rest there.

Cheers!