Musing #13 : Religion

This poem is a gateway drug

Al salamu 3alaikom,

This is the last part of my mini-series of Magic, Art, Science and Religion. These together form the quadratic theme of my novel. I’ll share more in the upcoming posts about how these themes have shaped my characters and the conflict between them.

A Quick Reminder

But for now, here is the fourth and last installment of my own stories engaging with these four quadrants. I hope you enjoy this story in a poem.

I’ll be changing the format based on the survey I did, starting next week. Thanks for all of you who voted and sent me comments about what they enjoy the most. More to come.

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Part IV. Religion (3 min read)

Just like Shabbat,
and Church on Sundays,
Muslims have Fridays
to pray and be nice. 

My dad and I
would go together,
like every father
and son in the hood.

I hated the mosque
and before you kill me,
listen to my strictly
practical reasons. 

First of all, my shoes always
got stolen, but also,
I had to stand awkwardly
next to my dad. 

I’d stare at the boys,
in silence we circled,
and listened to the
parents talk about the weather.

Oh this oh that! 
Get me out of here
this ugly kid
is killing me. 

But Friday afternoons,
they were quite  special,
just my father and I,
away and together 

buying newspapers,
eating Persian bread,
Times I now cherish
being so far away.

Then I would ask him
the weirdest questions
And he would strategically 
hide his dread.

Like once I asked him:
Is religion even real?
We all need it, son
And it's the whole deal. 

That
Didn't
Make
Sense!

Islam to me 
was a video game
Developed by God, and
installed by my parents

I was into winning 
and I must ace it
like every other 
act. 

But soon the play
became quite old
and fresher thoughts
entered my brain.

Some may say 
I was Westernized
by Classic Rock
and South Park.

I argued, I fought
I won many battles
but lost great friends
and felt quite battered.

I wasn’t an atheist
or maybe i just dabbled
but realized that they
are equally terrible.

So I rested with my
indifference to the answer
and stayed cozy and warm
in my echo chamber.

Then one day 
I heard  me say 
horrible things
to myself. 

I felt alone and 
not quite right.
And suddenly a mountain
and a zooming out.

At some point,
I stopped thinking
and started intuiting,
And felt connected  

To other humans,
to the birds,
to the trees,
to the Earth.

I might have taken 
a tab of acid,
or maybe grandma
was praying hard for me.

But the point is that,
I transcended the
layers of bullshit that
have us stuck. 

So it was me
And the mountains 
And the desert and
The Big Ol’ Sun. 

The divine mystery,
I was reminded of.
Angelic sounds 
were here to show me

Yes, you are loved. 
You are not separate. 
You are not against. 
You are with!

You are protected.
God speaks to all.
Each and every one of us
is connected to

each and every one of us. 
Amen, 
Aho, and 
Ohmmmm.

Say what you say,
dance how you may,
just know when you judge me,
that you’ve gone astray.

God doesn’t care,
she’s everywhere,
and isn’t waiting
for your masturbation

to make sure 
that her 
day’s work 
was worth it.

So just do the thing
that lights you up,
and find a community
that opens you to

your deepest 
intuition.
Go for Renaissance 
not Prohibition.

May you be peaceful
May you be kind
May you be free from suffering
May you be fulfilled.

In your work,
in your relationships,
in your spirituality,
and in your purpose.

Amen.