One of the first things I do when I wake up is thank God. The nearer to first that act is, the better my day is going to be. Today, after snoozing for around 45-minutes (don’t judge me, I have a baby), I rolled over and tapped open my Daily Hadith iPhone app. Basically the Prophet (pbuh) was saying that sadaqah, or voluntary charity, was incumbent every day upon the believer. The idea of voluntary charity being mandated may sound strange at first, but it’s not when you turn it around. What the Prophet is saying is that if you call yourself believer and forsake voluntary charity, you are in fact deluding yourself. There is no belief without the desire to give of oneself.

The Prophet’s companion asked, “O Messenger of God, from what do we give charity if we do not possess property?”

The Prophet answers essentially that doing good deeds, commitment to Islam’s unitary faith, even a good and encouraging word… are all worthy acts of charity. Put another way, you don’t have to be rich in order to do good and you don’t have to have goods in order to be rich.

I have a lot of conversations with smart people about the nature of reality and what we really are. Yet most of them remain in an ethereal realm located somewhere between bullshit and irrelevancy. It seems very mediocre and small to debate the interpretation of theological minutae while actual flesh-and-blood humans are suffering from lack of clean drinking water and basic sanitation; whose governments are ruled by corrupt and selfish politicos; whose economies are poisoned by international exploitation.

In the face of all this, I understand how small our impact can seem. After college, I tried very hard to stop thinking seriously about the world’s troubles, believing that I was incapable of affecting them. I now realize this runs counter to my faith. I am reminded of the Biblical story of David, of Daniel, of the first Muslims who were laughed at, stoned and banished from their homes. They were eventually raised to a great height over those who formerly mocked them.

God gives earthly power to whom He pleases, and not without reason, to test whether they will do what is good with it. He makes the path difficult for those whom He pleases to test them, in order to see if they will remain true. I have never, in all my years, heard the story where God asks, “What is the nature of reality?” in order to get into Heaven. God does not care if you understand the Universe (trust me, He already knows); He only wants you to know yourself and understand what you must do.

And that doesn’t take a savant.

Praise God.

***

I first tried to read the Qur’an when I was in high school. A class-mate lent it to me. I don’t remember if there was a copy in the library, but the one he had was big, leather-bound, the impressive kind. Inside, English words stood beside the original Arabic, which was so beautiful I immediately trusted them. It wasn’t intellectual, it was entirely emotional. I was a lonely kid looking for something that mattered, something real. Those Arabic characters, they could have meant anything. For that reason, they meant everything. They were a way out.

I started wearing a kufi and reading Qu’ran every chance I got, but I never really understood the words, even the English ones. It would be years before I finally took my real Shahada and started practicing, but the seed of wisdom had already been planted. Wisdom, you ask? Yeah, that’s right. I’m not going to proselytize and say which way is better or who has the truth, Christians, Jews or Sabians (whoever they were). I’m just saying that no matter which soft drink you drink, there’s going to be some sugar, so if you have taste buds, you’ll taste it.

That’s what the Qu’ran was and is to me. It’s a holy book. It’s full of sugar. Just like the Bible. It’s intention is to raise human beings to a greater, not lesser state, but it is not all-powerful. It isn’t God or even God’s actual voice (which, like a Son, he doesn’t need).  It is a fragrance of the divine and a codec to interpret your life through.

The Day of Judgment? What is it? Nobody knows. Anyone who claims to know because they have read the Qur’an or the Bible exaggerates their understanding. If anyone truly knew, they would be supernatural. The point of the Qu’ran and the Prophets who came before is precisely this point. We don’t know much besides what we see and feel. Sometimes it takes a dramatic and often metaphoric approach to condense and illustrate the mysteries of the Universe. The gift of the Qu’ran is that anyone can read it or hear it and absorb something good from it. That people do not isn’t an indictment of the book, but of the reader.

When I think of Judgment Day, I am filled with great peace. I don’t even know it’s literally true. I don’t have to. Will it come in my lifetime? My vanity wishes it would, but it probably won’t. Like everyone before me, I will probably have to die before I see God’s face.

Saint Rabiya once explained that to serve God for desire of Paradise or fear of Hell were ultimately inferior forms of service. Only love was sufficient for full immersion in the divine. It occurs to me that perhaps Judgment Day is simply a metaphor offered by the Divine to give us peace in this life – in the face of seemingly unanswered brutality, those who seek faith in goodness, need all the help we can get.

For me, I think I am OK with or without Paradise. My life on Earth has shown me great beauty and tenderness. I have experienced moments of such divine, crystalline beauty that it hardly matters if see them again. They are precious because of their fragility. I do not see what a thousand thousand years of such moments will accomplish that one split second of perfect beauty did not.

If there is no Paradise after the grave, it will not be a great loss. How can you lose anything that was never yours to begin with?

If you’re not getting paid to be smart, odds are people don’t want to hear it. People respect money, which they can see, not brains, which they cannot.

***

I make the same neurotic mistake everyone else does — taking the world for an object that can held or manipulated.

***

When I was young, I was taught that Heaven would be like a big wedding, with angels and deceased loved ones, and God, all together as one, singing and playing harps. I guess that’s the most wholesome orgy you can mention in church. I don’t know, sounds hectic to me, and like a lot of work. The older I get, the more I’m hoping for oblivion, least then I could get some rest.

***

Whenever I feel a certain way about my job, I don’t get mad at the job, I get mad at myself for being dumb enough to take anything so seriously. The world wants you stressed about your obligations, as if the feeling of stress itself will help you succeed, but God does not care. Through the eyes of Zen, it’s all mud pies. The most ingenious thing the Devil ever did was to go corporate.

***

Sometimes I wonder why I’m not a writer, a professional writer I mean. I would be so much happier, wouldn’t I? I could be writing commercials, novels about teenage aliens, or a self-help book. Instead, here I am again, writing about this shit.

***

I’ve never read any Bukowski books, but if I live long enough, I will. Some guys, though, I don’t even have to crack the book to know the story. I’m living it too much already.

***

If I’m being honest, I’m ambivalent about enlightenment. I mean, if I get rid of wanting all the dumb shit, what the hell’s left?

***

I’m most judgmental about my own fears. I get sick of myself for being afraid of things. But, in the end, it boils down to a fear of being ordinary, though I couldn’t tell you why ordinary sucks so much. The Zen masters tell me it’s the whole point, getting to ordinary. We must have two different ideas of the word. The American version of ordinary means being a sucker. Only suckers take ordinary. Those of power and ability reach past ordinary and take the moon. Of course, nobody ever tells you what good’s a fucking moon.

***

It’s so easy to get sidetracked because we have terrible memories, worse than goldfish actually because think we do remember and insist on it, but mostly we don’t, we’re dredging up fakes, but we’ll fight for them anyway, even though deep down we know it’s wrong, but we can’t let anyone know or else, something, and I would explain why but the thought escapes me…

If I haven’t made myself clear before, I’m a Muslim. I sometimes joke a very bad one, because I don’t always eat halal food, I miss prayers, drink, and probably curse too much. I used to think that meant I couldn’t be a Muslim, because I’m a convert and generally converts are supposed to be the most pious people ever – or else why did they covert!

It just didn’t work that way for me. I was always comfortable with God and my relationship with Him/Her/It. I went through the immature doubting, questioning the motives and purposes of God, sure. But I have just never had a lot of trouble visualizing or understanding the concept of an all-merciful, all-perfect Supreme Being creating an imperfect world. The word “be” is perfect. The concept “be” is entire. Being, however, is another story completely.

What I did have issues with were some of the mythological aspects of Christianity, the religion I was born into. I never understood the concept of the Trinity or God having a biological son. It bothered me that we were always singing to Jesus, a man, and not to the Supreme Being we claimed to worship. I was bothered by the confusion between our Lord and our Lord Jesus Christ. The confusion struck me as similar to Greek mythology, with characters swapping attributes, their stories changing depending on region, due to local color and taste. I sensed artificiality.

Islam simplified that for me. Islam took the underlying structure of Semitic monotheism and clarified it for me. One God, One Race, One Book. Wow, super simple in theory (be). Turns out, super difficult in practice (being). Even between Muslims.

First problem came at the heavily Arabic-influenced masjid I took my Shahada (the oath that makes you a Muslim). They wanted me to change my name and cut my locks. For them, these African American men, being a Muslim meant a cosmetic as well as internal change, like joining a frat. For me, my soul was enough. I stopped going after I took my Shahada and found another masjid under the umbrella of Warith Dean Muhammad that was much more friendly. The congregation was overwhelmingly African American and most had come from the Nation of Islam after Elijah Muhammad’s son Warith embraced orthodox Islam. I looked like their kids. I became one.

Since then, I’ve moved across the country, sat in Zen meditation, got married, had a child, wept for God’s grace. A lot has happened. I’ve had lots of opportunities to see the world at work and, by extension, God’s will in practice. Among my friends are atheist materialists, Buddhists, agnostics and outright heathens. The homogeneous community I had once idealized never came to be. Life has a way of disproving ideas.

After 9-11, I got very shy about sharing my faith. For two reasons: one, I can’t stand anyone trying to legislate my life (news flash: there is no authorized clergy in the Qur’an). I didn’t like it when church folk used to try it and I don’t like it with a kufi on top. Two, all my non-Black non-Muslim friends almost always react to finding out I’m a Muslim in the same way I imagine gay people sometimes feel.

“I didn’t know that!”

“You?? I would never have guessed.”

“Well, you’re the good kind! Not like those terrorist nut-bags.”

So stupid.

I don’t see the need to talk about it or mention it most of the time. My best actions emanate from my spiritual beliefs. Judge them instead of the textbook.  Anyone can claim a book. Anyone can claim to know Jesus. None of this matters. I’m not running for office.

Here’s what I know: God is not a Muslim, nor a Christian, nor a Jew. There are no temples in Heaven. No holy wars. We judge each other on Earth so often by our words, our clothing and what we possess., yet when God looks at us, we are naked, stripped bare. Children, all.

Before we are anything, we are God’s. That’s what Islam is to me. In case I wasn’t 100% clear before.

Peace be yours.