Installment No. III

There is power in three. Three times is a habit. Three times is plurality in Arabic. Most importantly, three is (arguably) sunnah--a tradition of Prophet Muhammad may peace and blessings be upon him. So there you have it, installment number three takes on something of a 'special edition' status. Just for the occasion, I'm going to post one of my favorite poems (ok, you're right, its because I don't have an overwhelming amount to say) that I wrote when contemplating the plight of people and their bouts with depression and tribulation a few years back. I'm a firm beleiver in mind over matter and the power of human psyche; you should find that this poem reflects such belief. Everyone is faced with adversity, but it is normally the person themself that magnifies the tribulation and allows themselves to drown in the whirpool of chaos they thereby create. Personally, the words of the Holy Qur'an are the mantra by which i come to terms with all trails and hardship: " Indeed we do not burden a soul more than its capacity" (Al-Baqarah).

This of course brings me to one of my pet peeves, the idea of people overstating their problems and constantly focusing on how 'they've been through so much in past x (insert time variable here)' or a more general 'i've had so much drama in my life'. I will disclaim upfront however, that I say this with no intended offence toward anyone in particular. What I also will say however, is that if you have a roof over your head, or have both parents alive and caring for you, have clean running water streaming from your tap at whim, and have air conditioning in your house when the temperature should--heaven forbid--exceed 30 degrees celcius (86 fahrenheit), you might want to put things into perspective. Of course there will definitely be people for whom life has offered an inordinate amount of adversity in relation to others, but the irony is that many of them will not be the majority of people committing said peeve in the first place despite being so entitled. With further ado, I present to you:


A Timely Dole

He took a look around, felt but dampness in the air
He felt his hands around, found that any warmth was rare
There was little but a black, pitch darkness all about
If life were likened to a harvest, he saw happiness in drought
When had his life become, a deep and empty hole?
The only respite he found, were in the tears that rolled
So heavy down his cheek, yet fell so lightly to the floor
While with desperate touches he, sought out some hidden door
Helpless there he stood, his feet gave out below
He crumpled to the ground, while no future did he know
Only in suddenness did he notice, his arm had struck a glance
On his brief and listless fall, from his upright stance
What could the object be, for surely it was no wall?
With franticness he reached, as an infant for its doll
His hand then met a cold, metallic bar that stung
Though in elation did he find, it was no less a rung
A ladder he'd not expected, nor bothered to there find
Almost as though this hole, had existed in his mind
With his gaze he scaled the ladder, til the top of its course
Where a tiny light appeared, could there he find recourse?
Alas he slouched back down, for it was a lengthy climb
And what would of him become, were he to fall on his behind?
The man pondered for a moment, before lastly standing tall
As he realised a chance at light, was surely worth a fall
Slowly he gripped the ladder, gathered courage from within
Before summoning sudden strength, as if possessed by jinn*
He safely reached the top, recounted his lenghthy plight
That finally ended with him, at last to bask in light
What had allowed him to escape, from this deepmost hole?
Surely the ladder had been, from God a timely dole.

--January 11th, 2003

*Arabic for spirit or paranormal being.

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Let me know what you think :)
Peace.

Back Already

I know what you are probably thinking right now. Its only been one day since I've posted my inaugural blog and yet here I am again, taking full advantage of the cyberspace at my disposal, unable to pass up an opportunity to talk about myself. Yet the reason I find myself here is because I'm in somewhat of a contemplative mood. Not that I am not ALWAYS thinking and processing; anyone who knows me will certainly affirm to the contrary. However, this is one of those mellow days that perhaps you will get a chance to see every so often and who knows, maybe be in for a treat :P

Well...we'll definitely have to save the surprises and flair for some other day. Today I have something a little more (or less, depending on perspective) conventional in mind. You see, I have a hobby I have kept for quite a few years now--about 5 years to be precise--of writing poetry. Of course, as anyone else who shares this pastime, I draw inspiration from issues/thoughts currently hovering around my head, or even themes I am able to distinguish at particular junctures of my life. Yet, I like to go further. Perhaps the greatest beauty of poetry is the ability to step outside the confines of the individual and express oneself in a manner that may not be in complete concord with one's general personality. In many ways the personalities and images one chooses to project upon others are shaped by the inherent goals and intentions the individual values. Hence 'professionals' need to act like 'professionals' whenever under the prying eyes of the public. Mothers must act in a certain manner around their children in respect for their role towards their children, a prospect that often has the result of thrusting such women into the 'maternal' personalities we see daily.

Poetry affords us the ability to step outside these socially-confined roles and even express ourselves in ways that would have been detrimental to our 'niches'. Personally, my brand of poetry will reflect an aspect of my personality/psyche that is obscured from most as it is very often easy to misunderstand. It is also easily categorized with other traits that I donot beleive myself to have. Thus, poetry allows me to express even fringe thoughts with such polarity that would otherwise be misperceived, given my general personality.

Hence, you will find my poems to be of the dark variety. Sorrow, depression, and anxiety--or fear thereof-- are often emotions that drive humans, or at least play a large part in our lives. Attempting to evoke such emotions is often the key to establishing a message in all forms of media, and poetry is certainly no different. Here is a poem I wrote on a contemplative January day, in 2003.


A Tenuous Joy

I had come through the gate, but now I have gone,
Though barely had my feet, grazed so much as the lawn,
In the garden laid within, I'd spent much of the year
Yet I come away with little, but a chapter in arear
My exit is like my entrance, bare-handed and obscure
While the future to my fore, appears none the more secure
Had I picked not even flowers, with which to come away?
To serve to me a reminder, of how my life did sway
In this tenuously joyous visit, the garden of which I speak
Though precious years of life, did from my body leak
I bow myself in prayer, would I be granted more
Years of blessed Favour, His Eternal Mercy galore

-- January 24th, 2003

I would greatly appreciate any feebdback/commentary/analysis on the poem. Although I wrote the poem over 2 and a half years ago, it hit home today as I read it over once again. I can only hope it has a similar effect on you as you read.

In the Name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful...
May peace and blessings be upon His Messenger, Muhammad...

Alas, the moment is now upon us. The much anticipated release of the Hydro Hussla's blog!

I must admit, such contraptions as 'electronic public memoirs' are indeed foreign to myself, and I am not yet sure as to the intended frequency with which I look to present a 'blog'. However, it seemed an intriguing enough idea for one to reflect upon the contemporary issues of one's life that they wish to share with others, and hence, here I am submitting my first ever blog.

Here's to a hopefully eventful career in blogging. For anyone reading this and any subsequent messages on my part, do not hesitate to reply, especially since I have been informed that there are means by which one can submit an annonymous response.

Thanks for reading,


--Your Friendly Neighbourhood Hydro Hussla