I remember you

the lines of your face, deeply groomed grassy heaven

My tears furled in the crevice of dark tresses

I remember you

Dark, tall and handsome

An enigma

Not seeking to be chased but enjoying

The thrill of desire

I remember you

We lay, sprawled between silk lies

A tangle of webs caught between several truths

Things we’d hoped our hearts would hide

But see…I remember you

A wistful tale of love unrequited

Or perhaps too immature to ignite this fire

So important to my own song—

I suppose you’d helped me find my own

Touching traces of insecurity

So that I would unveil the real me

Not so pretty or so peaceful, no:

Painfully human, fleeing ease and flow

I recall—

Much laughter in the height of the morning

3am, hearts soaring

Recalling dreams of tomorrow

Though it’s actions turned sour

A hidden place inside of me

Stories never ventured, still unseen

You see…I remember you

The thrills of diving to the deepest end

Pulling me back to my waters ocean

Liquid desire tracing back to the Source

A sure testament of love as a compelling, mystique force

I recall, infinite stories of who we’d wish to be

Becoming all that God meant for me

Perhaps trading in another,

to reignite my own energy

Yes…you gave me a wonderful gift

The gift of remembering me

I remember me.

———

I guess love is never truly lost

Never taken or held behind

A finite fire smothered on a summers night

Illuminating the path to witness the stars shine

Gazing above, the heavens hanging on the edge of time

Reminding that it’s presence has always been alive

Time has taught me time and time again

Human love is only for the purpose of true remembrance

———

I saw God’s face

He smiled softly

Drove me deeper into the cold waters that met me

Cleansed grime and smut from clouded soul

Embracing insecurities and wounds of old

Salt stitching each layer of raw skin

Purging the cloud of sin from within

Loss and doubt that arose in a lack of faith

I’m happy that our imperfect love led me back to God’s face

Thank you

For leaving this memory of you.

Redefining the Bounds of Spiritual Praxis

Lately, I’ve been attempting to find a new rhythm of spiritual practice, retrace my steps to relearn what it means to be an individual who serves God, who loves God and most importantly; who is God conscious. Do we absolve the meaning that intentionality brings in return for being a diligent soldier? Do we follow blindly without asking question, without coming to a deeper understanding of ourselves and God as One Union? And how do we allow ourselves to be properly yoked in the face of this magnificence that surrounds each one of us?

I’ve been searching for my relationship to the Ultimate to be much more prayerful. And silent all in the same instance.

You see, I was raised in a staunch Muslim background. I felt for most of my life, as I observed many of the practices of these wonderful, yet flawed individuals that there was missing the integral piece of clear-heartedness. It seemed that rituals were followed hollowly without true clear-heartedness- the sacred intention of wanting to be close to God for the love of this beautiful entity as opposed to guilt. Or fear.

When I actually think about it, many of these relationships included a sort of transactional dynamic between an individual and “the other”, which further perpetuated some reality of egotism. To believe that one is so important that they must be followed or ruled as some odd way of further proving this importance. I saw this in many peoples relationships not just with God but also, with authority figures; doctors/nurses, teachers and even parents.

It is true that many relationships on the outside definitely can operate in a transactional manner. “If you do this for me, I will love you more. If you don’t do this, I will hate you”, this is the idea isn’t it? In but so many words, we have continued to perpetuate this idea that our sense of worthiness, of being loved, cared for, accepted is dependent upon some outside validation of how good we are to other people. Of how good we are to the world. But the reality is that when you understand your inner worthiness apart from anyone else requiring it from you, this is when you truly are able to pour back into the world around you. How can we possibly expect to give freely, relentlessly and earnestly when we are giving from a place of needing someone else to validate us? We constantly place another’s mind and morality at the forefront of our consumption, needing someone, ANYONE to tell us that we’re good enough. And the real reason we need someone to tell us this is because we don’t believe it within ourselves. Thus, I feel this same fallacy, we project onto The Most High.

Tapping into the reality of God, for me at least, this being feels limitless. Merciful at the forefront, He see’s to the core of who we truly are. Seeing deeper than a meaningless identity of “this is who I am today and that’s who I was yesterday”, yet still allowing for us to experience this being through this very identity. So many stay perched on the surface level of who God is, believing that we are created in His image. Many believe that God has “likes and dislikes” and judges according to our feeble human affairs. That God takes human beings at face value and labels each of us as “good or bad”. A surface level, that places mans own ideology of morality and value at the forefront, instead of understanding and loving the intricacy of God’s nature and thus, failing to fall in love with their own.

What a gift life is when we are able to tune into the truth of who we have always been. We are able to tap into this limitlessness and relinquish false identities. Perched at the base of God’s throne, we recognize how small we are, and thank Him for it. I’d always marveled at the unique ability that religion sought to give tools and a means of absolving oneself in favor of the whole.

And The Whole is harmonious. It is also chaotic. It is an active and alive universe, with so many things happening in each instant since the beginning of time—it is expanding and releasing planets, while other ones die, when the star is absolved into a deep black hole and plunged into nothingness…What then is left behind? Then do the words of an abusive mother matter? Does the car that cuts you off on the way to work even make a dent in the reality of the cosmos? Does that emotion that you thought you’d NEVER get over, make its way back up to the heavens? Does man become that important to the grand scheme of creation?

Numerous times have I found myself at the precipice of grand self-importance. Maybe because I felt that if none of this meant anything, then God would dissolve itself. But at the ending of my identity, there is the beginning of the nameless, the formless that does not speak. But simply exists.

Lately, I’ve been trying to find a new rhythm of spiritual practice, retracing the rituals of old, the intentionality of my ancestors, the prayers that protected their graves. I’d searched so far only to come back to the place I’d started. Recognizing that to find God, the search must discontinue deep enough for me to dissolve myself, my separation, my opinion and distance. To melt back into this Majestic Creator who had always lingered deep within.

I pray that you find the strength to let go of yourself. Simply, to find yourself.

Heaven

Releasing the False Self—Ramadan Reflections

This Ramadan has been quite peculiar for me.

In this place of merging tradition with intentional ritual and releasing faulty conditioning of the Ultimate Truth, I have found myself at the seat of paradoxes one can find lying beneath the tyranny of the false self.

Where are the people, the items, the identities that will bring us to The Most High? We find ourselves seeking practices, ritual and information as a means of searching for this Ultimate Truth. And still, many will miss it.

This search for truth is often found when the haze of clouds disappear overlooking the sky. As Rumi writes, “God has shown us the foam and obscured the ocean”. We see the dust but missed the wind. How is it that we are searching for that which has existed all along?

We search and search once again, only to find consciousness peaking beneath the level of our awareness. Then attention becomes displaced and once again—this awareness escapes us. How is it that we have missed the gold that peaks from beneath the surface? Or even more importantly, how can we grasp the gold when we are confounded with the earth settled on top of it?

This is what it means to operate under the false self, to be consumed by the evils of our own minds—fear, doubt, shame, guilt, judgement and compulsion. Many of us condemn the hell we are afraid of entering—yet perpetuate its presence in our lives through each waking moment.

In moments we choose our false selves over the reflection of the Divine, we have lost Ultimate Truth. In moments we find ourselves tethered to unnecessary impulses, compulsive needs of the lower self, an inability to sit in the wake of nothingness, of silence—we are forfeiting our birthright to the Ultimate Truth. And what is this truth exactly? It is the presence of God that is so apparently in our face, we lose vision of Him each time we turn our face.

It is nothing to be ashamed of, but everything to be conscious of. In this world where we are faced with so much distraction, temptation, anger and strife—remembrance of God becomes not only a necessity, but our saving grace. And I do not mean the God that is defined through religious dogma and rules to regulate human conduct. I mean the Creator that exists beyond space and time—residing, etched deeply into every facet of His magnificent Creation. Including ourselves.

This is what I have learnt this Holy Month. That behind routine, there is the intention and importance of ritual that brings us to a place of purposeful remembrance. And this remembrance allows us to let go of ourselves, let go of our false identities in favor of remembering the fullness of that from which we have come. To embody our divinity and let go of conditioning, false idols and hatred. To release our arrogance and fall to our faces in humility and lack of perfection. And even in those shameful reflections, find the need for the love of God.

💛 I pray the Creator purify my speech, in my intentionality to bring forth His magnificence.

💛 I pray this month be an opening to each of our awakening.

For this, is the truest, most enduring healing 🌸

Have a wonderful second half of this Holy Month.

Your sister,

Xx Heaven

The Art of Being in Flow

Do you really trust your Creator?

Do you even trust yourself?

From self-observation, one will find there are many ego games at play all in one instance. When we talk of surrender, we literally mean the ability to be able to completely relinquish control— or the illusion of such in which we place our faith in the hands of our Creator. Surrender requires trust: understanding that God’s plans are much more unbounded and perfect than our own. Some may say that they find surrender on the mat in the midst of yoga. When one contorts their body into pretzel-like poses or even a simple leaning forward onto stretched out legs, feeling muscles pulse in their struggle to release its hold, break, tear and form deeper into this shape.

Or perhaps surrender comes during that moment in meditation where words become sparse and one begins to hear sounds circling around them. Listening to cars whiz by; laughter from children across the street at a playground; birds in flight, the wind carrying melodious chirps or; a slight ringing sound of silence. In those moments where oneself begins to blend with the world around them, the realization that separation is the mass hallucinogenic illusion we’ve all implicitly agreed upon becomes ever so clear.

Maybe surrender arrives in the midst of prayer. When a chant and intention becomes vibration—pulsating across a thousand membranes and cells implanting itself through muscle memory. Our voices mirroring the very tremors that shaped the universe. With Gods name heavy on our tongue, hearts begin to tremble at the humble awareness of the familiar essence of its Creator. Reverence becoming our name, we bow our heads in humility understanding our own creation and God’s mercy in manifesting us.

In reality, many humans have issues with surrender in many aspects of daily living. Perhaps it’s a trouble to commit to a routine, to acknowledge our imperfection, a negligence to pull ourselves from self-importance, a lack of humility, difficulty with bowing our heads in prayer or even admitting that we do not have all of the answers.

The lesson of surrender arrives in many forms; in many that we have endured during this very year. As difficult as it may get, I am keen to remember that surrender often arrives in places where God seeks to be revered. In these spaces, we are asked to drop the force of “personal will” to allow something much bigger and wiser than ourselves to emerge. We are joined with the force of nature which knows no illusory separation and fully submits itself to the will of the Creator, following His commandments. And due to this submission, nature poses as eternally and infinitely beautiful—a reflection of God Himself which stands as a reminder to those whom seek wisdom. This wisdom allows for us to reclaim the seat of our being, causing the to submergence into submission and reemerge of our likeness of God, thus returning to our own timeless divine nature. In this we never fear the illusion of death as we return to infiniteness.

Thus our very breath turning into a return, reverence and prayer to The Most High.

Surrendering to Liminal Space

–
liminal space
the “in between”
that moment when waiting for a call
but signals never quite picks up
or perhaps the dial tone rings
reminding you of words you’d wish you’d said
now never to be uttered
it’s the space of nothingness
yet holding each possibility
feet aching over journeys traveled
then noticing the road’s spiraled into a dense river
with no boat to cross
its that moment before the ending
right after the climax
when all that is heard is steady beating in chests
cramping in their stomach
shoulders hijacked toward the crown
sweet, perchance detrimental anticipation
time truly seems to pause in the liminal
steady whispers of “haven’t you been here before?”
“are you excited to see what happens next,”
“or does it haunt you?”
battles unwon but not quite defeated
the waiting game birthing unease,
impatience,
anxiety
in liminal space
that feeling of lack of control
trying to hold on to yesterdays memories
as a means of predicting tomorrow
its like grasping sand between tense fingers
the tiniest shards cutting into subtle skin
insignificant pebbles marking impressionable membranes
only to see its flight thorough diminutive passageways
i suppose this lesson has never been easy
even in quiet moments of recognition
im aware all of the secrets of the universe slip beyond what feeble minds could grasp
if it could grasp anything at all
with a Creator so expansive
so wise, All-Knowing
i suppose all the best surprises are first kept secret
in letting go of the need to predict
trusting infinite wisdom
settling into lifes deaths
i suppose i still am getting accustomed
to breathing in the stillness of liminal space

Xx Heaven