4 September 2020

Paul and I shared a beautiful lunch today which we made. Then I sat quietly in the sun for a while and, after digesting a bit, went upstairs for Jumah. My intention was clear, but not a word or even a feeling. Not even ‘truth’ any more.

I then sat outside as we rose into the afternoon sun, slowly shifting its warmth across the balcony and did a silent dhikr. I remember how I died.

I exploded in the light, and the wind sang through the palm fronds, and two fish eagles called to each other in their singular, signature tune of African yearning. I think that - like the owls - they’re getting ready to nest and procreate.

I understand nothing. Everything is perfect.

"The Lords of love are in love ensnared,
Bewildered" - Ibn 'Arabi

Later in the day, Aaron, Mary, Paul and I met with SFH to review the website. There is so little to say about the hour and half we got to spend together. I sat next to SFH for the duration of the meeting, walking him through the work we’ve done, listening to various bursts and beams from him, recording what I could, and generally just flowing in the love and presence which permeates everything at all times, but is particularly obvious around him.

Most of what he related had to do with the ever-lasting light within every heart, the unnecessary nature of any path or religion or ritual, and the need for a balance between head and heart. The rest of what we worked through can be found in this commit and in the two audio recordings I was gifted.

There’s only one other story worth relating here. At one stage, he looked at me and said, “It’s all transient. Everything is transient: he, she, you, me. Every I passes on. Yet I know this because there is a permanent light whose shadow I am. I know my temporary self because of the eternal soul. It’s so simple!”

“Go back to zero and be
at One.”

---

Later still, the now-waning moon peeking out occasionally from behind more clouds, Paul and I sat quietly on the downstairs balcony beneath the chandelier. He seemed to be a bit down over dinner (Mary’s veggie soup, bread, halloumi and SFH’s gift of tulsi, which is entirely unlike anything I have ever tasted before), and I felt the desire to be transparent again.

However, there is a great subtlety in this: it’s not you pushing all your own illusions and shadows onto others: it is a transparency that is contained. On realising this, ayat al-nur came, and there is nothing more to be said.

We cannot ever deny this world, nor can we hastily and without care return our life in it to its source. However, it is not attachment to this world (about which we are neutral) which makes us hesitate: it is recognition of the unmeasurable value of the gift of a life in it. You can only give it back once you know its infinite worth, have tasted the joy of death, and are entirely content if it is received or if you are told to keep waking for a little while longer.