got older in the lunacy of the eclipse recalling that i was a past when the future generation bumped into my yoga stroll.
still strutting.
a little less. a little less of a lean as i get in tryambakum mantras, as abdul basit offers his voice to recite surahs that no one has a copy right of. i wonder if they would if they could. they meaning me and my 7 billion selves in this 2015 of post-hope, or when hope means obama-olitics of brown crackers who could crack a whip just as good and more compassionately than whitey.
glad i'm still a public enemy, that i am the savage in the newspapers whose worship is so condemned that land and rituals are stripped, ancestral people uprooted into ghetto reservations designated for the uncouth.
glad that i studied my lessons, so that the romantacism of indigenus, holds no draw for me, especially as i hear it from the antecedents of the settler peoples who ask me why islam is so crazy, and why muslims are prone to violence, and what i think of shariah.
odd, i think, as i dance in the dark through vinyasa's that Essence guides me through. odd, i think, as these conversations linger and i wonder where the disconnect is. i wonder if they make the connection that colonization of the americas happened with an almost identical approach to the current snipering of islam. i wonder if islam will be as fashionable as native/tribal culture/spirituality once they have successfully killed us all off, when they have made Surrenderers just a name of people who worship the same god of the takers - capital(ism) = consumerism = what's hot/cool/in = race to the bottom.
my friend asks me, yes, but what about shariah?
what about shariah? i mean to ask him. what do you know about it?
uh, well, shairah means crazy, means fanaticism and promoting this and...apparently, this conscious new age homie has read the news, has somehow taken on the party line of the corporatocracy he condemns. interesting.
whose telling the news? if you and your family were robbing and stealing and you owned the vehicle of what everyone saw, read, heard, would you depict yourself as pathological? who is the hunter and who is the hunted? whose version do we get to listen to?
this lunar cycle, i give up on trying to get it right, and be perfectly messy and perfectly spiritual and perfectly crazy, and perfectly the medicine man that those in the circuit of herbalists and yoga teachers and alternative medicine will respect.
ALLAH gives me respect by allowing this voice to continue to flourish, to exhale, to get another chance...to serve and be of service, during this brief stint in this body.
i remember that i am abdul jabbar. compelled by the Compeller, and so long as i remain focused on what and who i am being compelled by, all is good.
this lunar cycle, i let go of getting it exactly right, of perfection, before i make a move. i make moves...
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