Haidar's Corner

"What is it that makes all of us end each day with the sense that we have not lived our time, but have been lived, used by what we do? Why has time disappeared in our culture? How is it that after decades of inventions and new technologies devoted to saving time and labor, the result is that there is no time left? We are a time-poor society; we are temporally impoverished. And there is no issue, no aspect of human life, that exceeds this in importance. The destruction of time is literally the destruction of life." -- Jacob Needleman

It's one of those times when things just slow down to a dull lull. Nothing excites or draws interest and you find you are just irritable. Usually there's a host of antidotes that come to mind and one is tempted to act as if these measures will be efficacious in solving your problem. Yet sometimes the only real solution might actually be to allow the mood play out. Emotions are supposed to be expressed and so if one attempts to suppress them by 'self-deception' it might temporarily solve the problem only to resurface in a more benign form. Thus like a burst dam allow it to just flow out. Connect with the feeling and discover its roots so that you can grow in self-awareness. Once you understand the cause it will be easier to channel your energies appropriately. Haidarwali 201707292142hrs

Always make sure you have a positive impact on those who cross your path and try to leave them as better individuals when you part. Acrimony is a waste of time and an emotional burden not worth keeping a space for. Better things await our attention. Every preoccupation is renting a space in your mind and using up the already insufficient time you are trying to manage so choose what you spend your time on and what you think about, for you become what you think!  In the end, all we really want is the calmness and serenity of being self-aware and at peace with oneself. Barka da Jumma'ah! Haidarwali 201707280815hrs

I love pictorials - whether painted or snapped probably because I'm a visual. I am fascinated by artworks which seem to take you into another world when you stare at them. I like scenic depictions for their ability to freeze time and I often find myself sucked into scenes and imagine how it would feel being there in real. And I also like abstracts because they make your brain to go to work trying to decipher what it is that is in the image. All in all pictures are a delight for the eyes to behold, bringing to life images in the mind's eye, feeding and nourishing the sense of sight!   May our sights be blessed, always! Haidarwali 201707271754hrs

Whenever I travel, I get a rare chance to reconnect with my true self through engaging in meditation and introspection which is enjoyable - especially when you're not the one driving! There's something about seeing the landscape laid out with varying vegetations, farmlands and settlements each seemingly undisturbed, insulated within their individual bubbles as if existing in a separate dimension. Ah! then my favourites the clouds up above forming and unforming; dissipating like the millions of thoughts flashing in the human mind. I will always treasure such moments of renewal and regeneration even as these days journeys are done with trepidation of accidents, robberies and kidnappings. May we all be protected. Haidarwali 201707242037hrs

Writing is such a wonderful medium for expression. It is such an effective tool for unburdening. A white blank sheet awaits you to pour forth all those nagging persistent thoughts where each word eagerly stumbles out to find its space upon the virgin arena. Though I am not yet a writer, I aspire to be one and because of this, I love to write. I know - and yes, it is not all who write  that are writers. Anyway, I cannot fully express how grateful I am discovering the awesome blessing of writing and to be so attuned at being its permanent disciple. In writing, I find my voice; loud and clear, unreserved unshackled. For me there's no shyness; no stage-fright or missteps. Just a flow of my thoughts being crisply expressed. I thus write with much enthusiasm and joy whether it be prose or poetry; ultimately basking in freedom's glow! Haidarwali 201707230210hrs

When does life happen? in moments like this untreasured while walking away closing doors handing over cycle to circle drawn in sand erasing memories plucking hairs off the balding waiting for yesterday to catch tomorrow maybe now, maybe later it is happening it has happened which makes me ask When did life happen? Haidarwali 201607221656hrs

I was cocoon until emerging I found the world had grown younger . though sojourn brief upon transforming butterflies fail not to share beauty and so I sit amongst birds to learn; to fly to perch and catch a stream of golden sunlight . quest for knowledge and wisdom never ends and has no deadline neither for teacher not to talk of... the one to be taught. . Haidarwali 201805021936hrs

never knew this abyss was bottomless endlessness is excruciatingly horrendous pitch dark like black ignorance frustrated tears squirm and wriggle to think that absence was cure when it only sharpens contorted heart shrinks daily yet a return is impossible for Death is no Joker but plays for keeps. Haidarwali 201607190156hrs

I have a computer. . ... I install a software but leave out information about me. . I ask: how can that computer know what I am? . Now I bring in a connection that can be used to search for the meaning of me...and before long it starts appreciating several things about me. . Now even from that connection, it can only know what has been uploaded to it. There are things about me that can never be appreciated from browsing about me. This can only be appreciated if I am met in person. . This for me is the analogy about God. We do not have the capacity to perceive more than what God has given us. Whatever knowledge we seek about God can never be fully gotten because we can never operate at that level. Our operating system/processing capacity is limited because we operate at a lower dimension. . Consider this also: . You cannot expect a computer made in 1970 to play/process a media of 2000 except if either of two things happen: . 1. The media is converted back to the format...

Better you do all Before you grow up When you grow up, Shell would have become a tortoise's; Wings withered; Being's spirit burnt; You would never be able to fly; For sky would be darkened; Dreams erased; Stars out of sight and reach; Ink dried; Hope stolen; Shattered moon with no Sun to reflect from; Voice gone with lost peace; And soul in last throes, So... Do not wait to grow up, For the time to act is now! . Haidarwali 201707172028hrs

She is speechless, For same was professed By previous lovers Each time they raised From the depths Only to plunge back Into suffocating abyss . She is weary and weak She cannot, will not... Move out of this place Cage they call it? Tis better to be imprisoned Than let loose: a prey . It is sad to think That her days will waste away Like smoke into the air With none to share The precious heart worn  . So much love to give So much laughs So much emotions So much  . It pains It tears It hurts . But it seems better Like this . Alone . Haidarwali 201511251940hrs

As the sun sets, where do fins lie in the subterranean world? Does the setting sun herald a dawn to which creatures come out to play? Which light glows to show the way as clear as scent on a trail? I wonder of such and much more... Haidarwali 201402171228hrs

They say nothing lasts forever Yet this night is eternal The wait for dawn's piercing is brutal As if I were married to Never . Maje Amin 201607161633hrs

. As humans we interact with our environment based on emotions which are felt and seek to be expressed. One of the ways of doing this is thru writing. Writers find an outlet in writing and perhaps like no other medium, it is one that let's them pour it out. . The challenge is always finding the right words for expression. They seek a match between what is felt and what is to be said (written). So heart and mind must align before creating this art of the word written. Like the painter arranges a palette 🎨 of colors beside a blank canvas, likewise do writers have at hand array of words awaiting to be selected and arranged. Like musical 🎶 composers combine notes to get a 'piece', so also writers employ an amazing dexterity in writing. Whether in poetry or prose, fiction or not, good writing has symphony and flow. You know you are being taken on a journey and you are actually going to enjoy it! 😊 Haidarwali 201707161229hrs

I watched with teary eyes as my beloved's shadow merged into the horizon, the object of my heart's attention melted like winter's last snow. What an ironic twist! Undeterred by the spasms of Winter's last stand, light's rays started streaming in causing Night to quickly retreat. Dawn had kept his end of the deal with Day - in defiance to Dusk's double-facedness. The Sun's appearance helped provide a sturdiness not unlike the grounding provided by a long walk that fills the nostrils with brown colored earthiness and greenery's melodic symphony delighted the ears interspersed with colorful birds' singing and tapdance. Occasional fluffy white clouds hovered above like floating feathers painting the bright blue board that was the sky. The canvas complete was a blissful sight to behold. Yet still something was amiss. My hand hanging by my side was empty, bereft of the warmth of companionship. So I sat on a stranded bench, worn old from the uncountable...

waters lapped, unevenly caressing the bank portent and foreboding as if in fear soon torrents appear ripples growing into waves one upon another; battering rainbow became dull mosaic all seemed lost in the flooding angry vortices sprouting doors to the unknown flailing like long grass against gusts winding and then in a blink all slowed to 'a-resting' stop shrieks and howling died And Calm inherited all. Haidarwali 201707151058hrs

Do not tell me of wealth, for I have been stranded in the middle of a desert Do not tell me of squalor, for I have met Affluence Do not tell me of sorrow, for I have seen a family reunited after war Do not tell me of joy, for I have seen genocide leave an old man barren Do not tell me of hopelessness, for I have seen the end of slavery and apartheid Do not tell me of enthusiasm, for I have seen a blind crippled dwarf Do not tell me of sweetness, for I have tasted defeat's bitterness Do not tell me of disgusting, for I have drunk pure crystal clear water Do not tell me of loneliness, for I have swam in ardor's depths Do not tell me of love, for I am yet to find its cure. Haidarwali 201707130042hrs

Slumber is no one's mate, So far you breath, it will conquer Futile is the attempt to resist It will snatch or sneak and persist Till you give up and succumb Leaving you drooling, dumb Agape, a-snore Oblivious to screeching shout or rumbling roar Rendered lifeless by Death's sibling Till set free from this arrest Sleep conquers all except The One Who needs no rest For sleep actually serves at His Behest. Haidarwali 201707122241hrs

Today is another piece of the jigsaw as you continue building your tomorrow. You have everything you need because you have hope; you have dreams. Life will always have hiccups but the good times are what endure. Regardless of what has passed or what may come , we have this moment even if briefly to smile, to share. So take my hand, as I lead you into this garden to smell the roses and see the greens shining and the sparkling sky blue above. Water gurgling, gushing, crystal clear like glass, melodious flow interspersed with cooing and twittering birds. Remember, you don't need to solve everything right now. Just let go of those worries and enjoy what you have now. Do those routine things you do everyday with relish. Taste each morsel in your mouth like your first and rediscover the meaning of delicious; appreciate those little things that don't seem significant. Find something to do and avoid worrying because as I tell anyone who cares to listen, things will always sort them...

A time upon us already When 'Muslim' will be sought In history books When semblance will assume The invisible cloak King who wears no clothes Islam, no longer skin Is rather worn As occasion's attire The Turban today Tomorrow turns Tuxedo Some, all is bared For 'Salam' is, Oxymoronic With Death throwing parties When intellect cowers Sheeple ascend to 'self-heard' Pockets of division, 70plus It is as He said Prophetic proof proffered Please ponder People Make haste to stop Waste of all gifts Placed in thy care With Time the grand prize Priceless is each moment Taken away It is almost midnight When Gong will sound The start of The Inheritance I have nothing more To give or lend For journey's end draws nigh. Haidarwali 201607050735hrs

the brushstrokes begin with fast-forming Nimbostratus then, that wondrous flow of showers continuous, unceasing: marka-marka in Hausa downpours, drizzles and droplets aroma of rain-scented earth melodious whirring and purring of raindrops rushing past racing to reach home cool freshness of air blowing grey skies draped with a cloak of smokiness greens wet, with gleaming brilliant glows thru window, this canvas I view awestruck by Nature's artful display. Haidarwali 201707090857hrs

We cannot all be onstage some must stay behind the scenes drummer is often faceless while dancers flaunt their looks melody is best heard not seen while speech seeks profile to match soil and rain host seeds even while air of life is invisible we must not be all onstage for who would release curtains upon end of life's acts and scenes? Haidarwali 201707080618hrs

the cruelty of reality hits like a crushing death-blow its intensity dulled by hope's presence pain would have been sweet if not for stolen emotions all I can do is shed tears of ash to be swept like autumn's leaves trampled like gravel of path oft-traveled strewn with uncountable memories entrusted upon by passers-by believing their secrets lie buried, layers upon layers unpealable, lost for beyond reach is loss irreparable. Haidarwali 201707072320hrs

So I sighed. Deep inside I had these thoughts all lined up waiting to be attended to. I knew I had to see to them but it was easier to forget about them and act as if they didn't exist. That sweet delusion that sucks you to worry-free-land was hard to avoid. That's how my addiction to procrastination started.