The Prophet through Imam al-Ghazali’s

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Beautiful direction — viewing The Prophet through Imam al-Ghazali’s lens shifts the reflection from mystical unity to the purification of the self and the journey of the heart toward truth and sincerity. Below is the rewritten version in that tone — contemplative, moral, and inwardly refined, as al-Ghazali would have seen it:


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The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran – A Journey of the Purified Heart

Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet can be read as a mirror of the soul’s search for balance — between the world and the eternal, between the desire to live and the duty to awaken. In the spirit of Imam al-Ghazali’s thought, this work speaks not of poetry alone, but of tazkiyat al-nafs — the purification of the self from illusion and heedlessness.

The story follows Almustafa, a prophet who has lived among the people of Orphalese for twelve years. When his time comes to return home, the townspeople gather and ask him to speak on the truths of life before he departs. His answers are not mere teachings; they are mirrors for the heart.

When he speaks of love, it is the love that refines the soul — one that tests and purifies rather than merely pleases. On marriage, he reminds that union is a trust, not ownership; each partner must be a helper for the other’s journey toward Allah.

Of children, he says they are life’s trust, souls lent to us to guide, not to possess. On work, he calls it an act of devotion — for labor done sincerely is worship in disguise. When he reflects on joy and sorrow, he unveils the secret that the two are companions; sorrow cleanses the heart so joy may enter it pure.

He speaks too of freedom, reason, passion, and death, showing that true freedom lies not in doing as we wish, but in aligning the will with the wisdom of the Creator.

In the end, when Almustafa leaves, his farewell is not an ending but an awakening — reminding the people that truth is not found in words, but in the transformation they awaken within.

The Prophet becomes, in this light, a call to self-knowledge: to polish the mirror of the heart until it reflects the light of truth. As Imam al-Ghazali taught, when the self is purified, every word, every silence, and every sorrow becomes a path leading back to Allah.


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Would you like me to craft a follow-up paragraph that connects this reflection to your blog’s theme — for example, “Manifesting the Life” — so it flows naturally into your own commentary afterward?


Kahlil Gibran – In the eyes of Ibnu Arabi

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Kahlil Gibran – A Reflection of the Hidden One . In the eyes of Ibnu Arabi


Excellent choice — Ibn ʿArabi’s tone brings a mystical depth that blends beautifully with Gibran’s vision. Below is a revised version of the blog summary, rewritten in the spirit of Ibn ʿArabi’s metaphysical insight — where the divine is seen through the mirror of human experience.


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The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran – A Reflection of the Hidden One

Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet is a mirror of the unseen truth. It speaks not of a man alone, but of the Perfect Human — one who has realized that every breath belongs to the One who breathes through all things. The story begins with Almustafa, a prophet who has lived twelve years in the city of Orphalese. When the ship that will return him home finally arrives, the people gather and ask him to speak before he departs.

Each question they ask becomes a doorway to divine wisdom.
When they ask of love, he says it burns like the sun — consuming all that is false so only truth remains. Love wounds so that the heart may open and see the Beloved within.

On marriage, he reminds that unity does not mean possession; two souls may be close, yet each faces the light from its own horizon. Of children, he says they come through us but belong not to us — they are the longing of Life for itself.

He speaks of work as worship, for to labor with love is to move in rhythm with the divine order. On joy and sorrow, he reveals they are not opposites but reflections of the same light — when one deepens, the other is made visible.

Even when he speaks of freedom, pain, reason and passion, or death, the message remains one: all forms are signs, and all signs point back to the Hidden Reality.

In the end, as Almustafa sails away, he leaves no command — only remembrance. He reminds the people that truth does not dwell in his words, but in their own awakening hearts.

The Prophet is not a call to follow, but to return — to see that every path, every love, every loss, is the movement of the One seeking to know Itself through us.


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Would you like me to make the next version slightly shorter and suitable as a blog post introduction (so it fits before your commentary or reflection section)?


The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

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Of course. Here’s a blog-ready summary of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, written in a reflective, human tone that suits a thoughtful or spiritual blog like yours:


The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran – A Journey of the Soul

Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet is not merely a book—it is a quiet conversation with the soul. Written in poetic prose, it tells the story of Almustafa, a wise man who has lived twelve years in the city of Orphalese. As he prepares to return to his homeland, the people gather and ask him to share his wisdom before he departs. What follows is a series of profound reflections on life—each chapter touching a theme that every human heart knows.

He speaks of love, calling it both a joy and a wound, a fire that purifies those who dare to open themselves to it. On marriage, he reminds that love should unite yet not confine, for “the pillars of the temple stand apart.” He writes of children, saying they come through us but not from us—they belong to life itself.

When he turns to work, Gibran uplifts labor as an act of love made visible, while on joy and sorrow, he shows that they are inseparable twins—one reveals the depth of the other. He reflects on freedom, pain, reason and passion, and even death, weaving them all into a single truth: that life is a circle, and everything we experience has a sacred purpose.

By the end, as Almustafa sails away, the people weep—but his voice lingers, like the echo of truth that every heart recognizes. The Prophet reminds us that wisdom does not live in distant places—it lives quietly within us, waiting to be remembered.


Would you like me to make this summary slightly more philosophical and Al-Ghazali-like in tone (to match the reflective style of your other writings), or keep it in this gentle poetic-blog tone?


Khalil Gibran

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That is a beautiful passage by Khalil Gibran — it comes from The Prophet, in the section titled “On Prayer.” Let’s explore its meaning deeply and philosophically.


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Passage:

> “When you pray you rise to meet in the air those who are praying at that very hour, and whom save in prayer you may not meet.”
— Khalil Gibran, The Prophet




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Literal Meaning

Gibran is saying that when you pray, you are not just performing a private act. You are spiritually rising — elevating your soul — and at that same moment, countless others across the world are also lifting their hearts in prayer. You may never meet them physically, you may not even know their names or languages, but in the realm of spirit, you are united.


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Philosophical Meaning

Gibran’s thought here touches on the unity of human consciousness.
When you pray sincerely, your inner self transcends the physical boundaries of time and space — you enter a shared spiritual dimension. In that realm, all prayers converge, forming a harmony of longing, gratitude, and hope that binds humanity together.

In this sense:

Prayer becomes a bridge, not just to the Divine, but also between souls.

Isolation dissolves — what seems an individual act becomes a collective vibration.

The air symbolizes the unseen realm of thought, spirit, and connection — the medium that unites all living beings.


So, Gibran suggests that to pray is to belong — to belong to the invisible fellowship of souls who seek meaning, forgiveness, peace, and love.


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Mystical Interpretation

From a mystical point of view, this passage implies that there exists a spiritual plane — an unseen layer of existence — where thoughts and prayers have their own life.
When the heart prays, it vibrates at a higher frequency, lifting the soul “in the air.” In that elevation, your soul aligns with others who are praying — just as musical notes of the same pitch resonate even across distance.

Thus, you meet not through words, but through vibration.
It is an encounter of souls rather than bodies.


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Practical Reflection

If you’ve ever felt peace or warmth while praying, even when alone, it might be that you are unconsciously connecting with this greater spiritual network.
You may be sharing that sacred moment with a mother praying for her child, a monk meditating in silence, or a stranger seeking forgiveness — all without knowing.

So, Gibran’s message reminds us:

You are never truly alone in prayer.

Every genuine prayer contributes to a shared spiritual atmosphere of the world.

It is through such moments that humanity silently meets — not in speech, but in spirit.



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Would you like me to expand this further in the tone of a reflective essay or a poetic commentary — something that flows like Gibran’s style?


Stare


That pleasant, almost soothing feeling you get when you just sit and stare at something still—like a tree, the sky, or even an empty wall—can be explained from a few angles:

1. Mental rest

  • Your attention system can finally take a break.
  • When you’re not actively processing new information, the default mode network in the brain—linked to daydreaming and gentle self-reflection—can take over.
  • This mental “idling” lowers cognitive load and feels calming.

2. Micro-meditation effect

  • A fixed gaze, especially on something neutral or natural, slows your breathing and heart rate.
  • This resembles mindfulness practice, where you gently focus without judgment. Even without formal meditation, your body starts to relax.

3. Gentle sensory input

  • Staring at something motionless gives your senses a steady, predictable signal.
  • The lack of sudden change reduces the brain’s need to stay on alert, which can feel safe and comforting.

4. Dopamine balance

  • Our everyday environment often bombards us with rapid changes (phones, conversations, traffic). A still scene contrasts with that and lets the brain’s reward systems settle, which can register as a subtle pleasure.

In short, that “good feeling” is your mind and body switching from doing to being—a natural reset that humans have likely used for centuries without calling it meditation.

2. You don’t need a strict “prescription,” but it helps to give your mind a few short, regular pauses. Here’s a practical way to think about it:


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⏱ Duration

Micro-pause: 1–2 minutes is already helpful—just soften your gaze on a single point and notice your breath.

Mini-session: 5–10 minutes lets your nervous system fully settle, much like a light meditation.

Longer sit: 15–20 minutes (if you enjoy it) can feel like a full reset, but isn’t necessary for daily benefit.



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🔁 Frequency

Daily rhythm: 2–3 times a day is common—after waking, mid-day, and evening.

Natural moments: Use it when you feel mentally crowded: before a meeting, after finishing a task, or while waiting for someone.



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🌱 Simple practice

1. Pick something neutral and steady (tree outside the window, a candle flame, even a blank wall).


2. Let your eyes rest softly; no need to stare hard.


3. Notice the rise and fall of your breath or simply the stillness itself.


4. If thoughts wander, just return your gaze—no judgment.




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📝 Normal habits people find sustainable

A 5-minute gaze break every couple of hours during work.

One longer 10–15 minute session in the evening to wind down.

Combining it with tea or a quiet walk so it becomes a pleasant ritual.



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Think of it less like a task and more like a reset button. Even brief, spontaneous pauses—whenever you notice the need—are enough to give your mind the same gentle benefit.

3. You’re noticing something subtle—those different flavors of staring really do have different inner dynamics. Here’s a way to break down the three kinds you described and what might be happening in each:


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1️⃣ The “after an incident” pause

What it is: A sudden stillness after shock, surprise, or a strong emotion.

What’s happening inside: Your nervous system is recalibrating—almost like hitting the “pause” button while adrenaline settles.

Feeling: Numb, suspended, sometimes a bit blank; it’s the body’s way of buying time to process.



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2️⃣ The “please-stop-my-thoughts” stare

What it is: You look outward but the real effort is inward—you want to quiet racing thoughts.

What’s happening inside: This is closer to intentional distraction or self-soothing. Your gaze becomes an anchor, helping you regulate overwhelming mental activity.

Feeling: Relief mixed with a faint tension—because you’re trying to push thoughts away.



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3️⃣ The “random wall-gaze” where time seems to stop

What it is: You’re not trying to escape anything or process shock; the stare simply happens.

What’s happening inside:

Your attention slips into a soft-focus state sometimes called “wakeful rest.”

Brain networks that normally track time and tasks quiet down.

This can create a light, timeless sensation—almost like a micro-flow or very light daydream without images.


Feeling: Spacious, peaceful, as if the usual pressure to “do” is absent.



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Why the third type feels so good

It’s effortless. Unlike the first two, there’s no hidden tension (no stress to process, no thoughts to push away). Your mind and body naturally fall into a restful, timeless awareness—something many formal contemplative practices aim for.


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Tip to let it support you

Don’t force it or schedule it; let it arise naturally.

If you’d like, you can gently notice your breathing or the sensation of simply “being,” but there’s no need to turn it into a task.



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So when you experienced that random wall-gaze where time seemed to stop, you touched a spontaneous pause—a small moment of presence that people often spend years of meditation practice trying to invite.



4. You’ve put your finger on one of the most subtle tensions in mindfulness:
the moment we try to be mindful, we also create an idea of what mindfulness “should be.”
That effort can pull us away from the very thing we want to touch.


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Why “trying to be mindful” can feel artificial

A goal-oriented mind
The mind is used to working toward outcomes—finish the task, reach the target.
When you declare “I’m going to be mindful now,” that same goal-chasing energy shows up.
Instead of simple noticing, you begin monitoring yourself: Am I mindful yet? Is this working?

Expectations of experience
You start looking for a particular “peaceful” or “blissful” state.
The mind, eager to please, may begin to imagine scenes—your “fantasy place”—instead of settling into what is actually present.



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The paradox of mindfulness

Mindfulness is less about doing and more about allowing.
But allowing cannot be forced.
Teachers sometimes call it “effortless effort”:
a light intention to be aware, without tightening into a project.


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How small practices still help

Even though the state itself can’t be commanded, regular gentle habits prepare the ground:

Routines like conscious breathing or soft gazing create a familiar pathway for the mind to slip into presence when it’s ready.

Over time, these habits reduce the background noise of constant mental planning, so unplanned moments of natural stillness arise more often.


Think of it like gardening:

You cannot make a seed sprout by tugging on it.

But you can water, weed, and leave the soil open to sunlight.

The sprouting happens in its own timing.



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Practical way to balance intention and letting-go

Set the stage, then drop the script:
Sit, notice your breath once or twice, and silently say, “I’m here.” Then let attention roam naturally.

Notice fantasy gently:
If the mind starts building an inner scene, simply recognise “thinking” without judging or chasing it, and let it pass.



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So you’re right: planned mindfulness easily becomes a performance.
But those quiet, uninvited pauses you’ve experienced are not accidents—they’re the fruit of a mind that, thanks to small, patient practices, knows how to rest when the conditions are right.



5. In English, mengelamun is usually translated as “daydreaming,” “spacing out,” or “being lost in thought.”
It can also carry a slightly different nuance depending on context—more like sitting in a quiet daze, not fully awake.

Here are a few reasons people—especially in older generations or in traditional communities—might warn against mengelamun when you first wake up:


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1. Cultural and religious beliefs

In many Malay–Muslim households, morning is seen as a time of barakah (blessing) and productivity.

Proverbs such as “rejeki pagi” (“morning sustenance”) encourage people to rise, pray subuh, and start the day.

Sitting idle right after waking can be viewed as wasting the hours when spiritual and material blessings are most abundant.

Some elders add a spiritual caution—saying idleness can let “evil” or bad influence enter. It’s a way of emphasising that an unguarded heart or mind can be more easily disturbed.


(This isn’t a literal doctrine that a spirit walks in; it’s more a traditional metaphor for letting negative thoughts or habits take root when you are in a half-awake state.)


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2. Health and psychological reasons

After sleep, the body needs movement to fully wake the circulation and metabolism.

Lingering too long in a half-sleepy state can leave you groggy (what modern medicine calls sleep inertia).

Elders might have observed that people who start the day slowly often carry low energy or feel lazy, so they put it in cautionary terms.



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3. Social and work values

In agrarian or fishing communities, mornings were precious: animals to feed, nets to cast, markets to set up.

“Don’t mengelamun in the morning” really meant: don’t waste the best working hours.



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Balancing old wisdom with modern understanding

A few quiet moments of intentional stillness (like mindful breathing) right after waking can be healthy.

The caution was mainly against aimless, prolonged drifting that slips into lethargy—not against a brief, conscious pause.



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So when you heard elders say “if you mengelamun early in the morning, evil will enter,” it’s less about literal spirits and more a colourful way of saying:

> “Don’t let the early hours of blessing be stolen by idleness or by thoughts that drag you into negativity.”





Norsanina.blogspot.com

The journey



🌙 That’s a very honest and beautiful question. Let’s unfold it gently.


You’re right: the spiritual journey can feel scary, because once your heart opens, you can’t “unsee” what you’ve seen. The Truth (al-Ḥaqq) begins to pursue you — no matter how you try to escape. This is actually a mercy:


> “So where are you going? Verily, it is only a reminder to the worlds — to whoever among you wills to be upright.”

(Qur’an 81:26–28)




The journey feels like it “finds you,” because deep down your soul was created to seek Allah.



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🌿 1. Al-Ghazali’s Stage — Reason and Certainty


You start with doubts, questions, even philosophy (like Hume did).


Al-Ghazali himself went through skepticism and despair.


He found peace when he realized: certainty doesn’t come only from logic, but from Allah illuminating the heart.


His path = safe anchor in Shariah + purification of the soul.


This stage gives you clarity, not fear.




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🌿 2. Ibn Arabi’s Stage — Experience and Unveiling


Once you accept Allah as the only true cause, your inner eye starts seeing unity in all things.


This can be overwhelming — it feels like there’s no escape from the Divine gaze.


Ibn Arabi would say: don’t run — because there’s nowhere else to go. Everything you see is Allah’s sign.


This stage = the world becomes transparent, you see Allah in all faces, all movements.


It is not scary if balanced with faith — but it can feel dizzying if you’re unprepared.




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🌿 3. Rumi’s Stage — Love and Surrender


For Rumi, the fear dissolves into love.


You realize: the One who “finds you everywhere” is not a hunter, but the Beloved.


His pursuit is not to crush you, but to embrace you.


This stage = joy, longing, intimacy with Allah.


Then the “scary journey” becomes the sweetest companionship.




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✅ So the chain is like this:


Reason (Al-Ghazali) → Allah is the only cause.


Experience (Ibn Arabi) → Everything is His manifestation.


Love (Rumi) → The One who pursues you is your Beloved.




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🌙 A reassuring reminder


Yes, the journey will “find you” even if you run. But that’s because Allah says:


“Indeed, My mercy encompasses all things.” (Qur’an 7:156)


So what’s chasing you is mercy, not punishment.



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Would you like me to show you a short dua (supplication) from Al-Ghazali’s writings that seekers use when they feel overwhelmed by this “scary closeness”? It might give you a safe heart-space as you reflect.




Yes 🌙 you’re exactly right — the light comes to those who sincerely seek it. Rumi often echoed Qur’an and earlier Sufi wisdom in poetic form. The idea you recall is close to his saying:

“What you seek is seeking you.”

And in Qur’anic terms, Allah says:
“As for those who strive in Us, We will surely guide them to Our paths.”
(Surah al-‘Ankabut 29:69)


Now, back to Al-Ghazali in Tahafut al-Falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers):

He argued against philosophers who believed causes act independently (for example, fire burns cotton by itself). Al-Ghazali insisted:

  • Fire does not burn cotton by its own power.
  • Instead, Allah creates the burning when fire and cotton come together.
  • If Allah willed, fire could touch cotton and the cotton would remain intact — as in the story of Prophet Ibrahim (pbuh), when the fire was made “cool and safe” (Qur’an 21:69).

👉 So in your analogy:

  • The “finger” (creation) has no power on its own.
  • The “will” (Allah’s command) is what makes movement and effect happen.
  • The connection is not automatic like a machine — it is recreated every moment by Allah.

Why This Matters Spiritually ✨

  • For Al-Ghazali, this means every moment is a miracle.
  • The world is not a machine running on its own — it is a fresh act of Allah’s will, kun faya kun.
  • This keeps the believer humble, aware, and in constant remembrance: nothing happens unless Allah says “Be.”

Where Rumi and Ibn Arabi Add Flavor

  • Rumi: would take this into poetry — saying every movement, even your longing for truth, is already Allah moving within you.
  • Ibn Arabi: would say your analogy of the finger and will is a sign that everything you see is Allah’s self-disclosure (tajallī).

✅ So your thought is very much aligned with Islamic wisdom:

  • You are describing tawḥīd al-af‘āl (the oneness of Allah’s actions) — that all acts come from Him.
  • Al-Ghazali explains it with logical rigor.
  • Ibn Arabi and Rumi open it into mystical experience and poetry.

🌙 That’s a very honest and beautiful question. Let’s unfold it gently.


You’re right: the spiritual journey can feel scary, because once your heart opens, you can’t “unsee” what you’ve seen. The Truth (al-Ḥaqq) begins to pursue you — no matter how you try to escape. This is actually a mercy:


> “So where are you going? Verily, it is only a reminder to the worlds — to whoever among you wills to be upright.”

(Qur’an 81:26–28)




The journey feels like it “finds you,” because deep down your soul was created to seek Allah.



---


🌿 1. Al-Ghazali’s Stage — Reason and Certainty


You start with doubts, questions, even philosophy (like Hume did).


Al-Ghazali himself went through skepticism and despair.


He found peace when he realized: certainty doesn’t come only from logic, but from Allah illuminating the heart.


His path = safe anchor in Shariah + purification of the soul.


This stage gives you clarity, not fear.




---


🌿 2. Ibn Arabi’s Stage — Experience and Unveiling


Once you accept Allah as the only true cause, your inner eye starts seeing unity in all things.


This can be overwhelming — it feels like there’s no escape from the Divine gaze.


Ibn Arabi would say: don’t run — because there’s nowhere else to go. Everything you see is Allah’s sign.


This stage = the world becomes transparent, you see Allah in all faces, all movements.


It is not scary if balanced with faith — but it can feel dizzying if you’re unprepared.




---


🌿 3. Rumi’s Stage — Love and Surrender


For Rumi, the fear dissolves into love.


You realize: the One who “finds you everywhere” is not a hunter, but the Beloved.


His pursuit is not to crush you, but to embrace you.


This stage = joy, longing, intimacy with Allah.


Then the “scary journey” becomes the sweetest companionship.




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✅ So the chain is like this:


Reason (Al-Ghazali) → Allah is the only cause.


Experience (Ibn Arabi) → Everything is His manifestation.


Love (Rumi) → The One who pursues you is your Beloved.




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🌙 A reassuring reminder


Yes, the journey will “find you” even if you run. But that’s because Allah says:


“Indeed, My mercy encompasses all things.” (Qur’an 7:156)


So what’s chasing you is mercy, not punishment.



---


Would you like me to show you a short dua (supplication) from Al-Ghazali’s writings that seekers use when they feel overwhe

lmed by this “scary closeness”? It might give you a safe heart-space as you reflect.


Norsanina.blogspot.com

Interesting


Yes 🌙 you’re exactly right — the light comes to those who sincerely seek it. Rumi often echoed Qur’an and earlier Sufi wisdom in poetic form. The idea you recall is close to his saying:

“What you seek is seeking you.”

And in Qur’anic terms, Allah says:
“As for those who strive in Us, We will surely guide them to Our paths.”
(Surah al-‘Ankabut 29:69)


Now, back to Al-Ghazali in Tahafut al-Falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers):

He argued against philosophers who believed causes act independently (for example, fire burns cotton by itself). Al-Ghazali insisted:

  • Fire does not burn cotton by its own power.
  • Instead, Allah creates the burning when fire and cotton come together.
  • If Allah willed, fire could touch cotton and the cotton would remain intact — as in the story of Prophet Ibrahim (pbuh), when the fire was made “cool and safe” (Qur’an 21:69).

👉 So in your analogy:

  • The “finger” (creation) has no power on its own.
  • The “will” (Allah’s command) is what makes movement and effect happen.
  • The connection is not automatic like a machine — it is recreated every moment by Allah.

Why This Matters Spiritually ✨

  • For Al-Ghazali, this means every moment is a miracle.
  • The world is not a machine running on its own — it is a fresh act of Allah’s will, kun faya kun.
  • This keeps the believer humble, aware, and in constant remembrance: nothing happens unless Allah says “Be.”

Where Rumi and Ibn Arabi Add Flavor

  • Rumi: would take this into poetry — saying every movement, even your longing for truth, is already Allah moving within you.
  • Ibn Arabi: would say your analogy of the finger and will is a sign that everything you see is Allah’s self-disclosure (tajallī).

✅ So your thought is very much aligned with Islamic wisdom:

  • You are describing tawḥīd al-af‘āl (the oneness of Allah’s actions) — that all acts come from Him.
  • Al-Ghazali explains it with logical rigor.
  • Ibn Arabi and Rumi open it into mystical experience and poetry.

Would you like me to show the chain of thought — how a seeker moves from reason (Al-Ghazali) → to experience (Ibn Arabi) → to love/poetry (Rumi) — so you can see where your own reflection might be on that path?

Norsanina.blogspot.com

Be

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That’s a very deep reflection 🌙 — and honestly, you’re not far from how many Muslim thinkers tried to explain this mystery. Let me help you frame your analogy in Islamic terms, so it sits within the tradition but still respects your personal insight.




🌿 1. Your Analogy (Finger and Will)

The finger doesn’t move by itself — it moves because of the will inside.

The will itself isn’t seen, but it drives the movement.

Similarly, creation doesn’t “move” by itself — it is being moved by a hidden Power (Allah).


👉 This matches the Qur’anic teaching:
“You did not throw when you threw, but Allah threw” (8:17).




🌿 2. Your Extension Analogy (GPS / Wireless Control)

You describe Allah’s control as like a wireless force, present in everything, unseen but directing.

This is very close to the Qur’anic idea that Allah is closer than your jugular vein (50:16) — not in a physical sense, but as the One whose will sustains and directs all things.





🌿 3. Where You Touch Ibn Arabi

You are sensing that creation has no real independence — like the GPS unit, it only works because a signal is continuously sustaining it.

This echoes Ibn Arabi’s wahdat al-wujud (unity of being): nothing moves or exists except as an expression of Allah’s will.





🌿 4. Where Al-Ghazali Would Add Nuance

Al-Ghazali would agree: “Yes, nothing moves without Allah’s will.”

But he would carefully add: the will is not the same as the finger.

Meaning: Allah causes and sustains everything, but He is not identical with His creation.

If the world is the finger, Allah is not the finger — He is the will behind it.





🌿 5. How the Qur’an Frames Your Intuition

Your analogy matches the spirit of kun faya kun (Be! and it is).

Movement, existence, events — none are truly independent.

They are “commanded into being.”

What looks like cause-and-effect is really the continuous decree of Allah unfolding.





✅ So your understanding can be safely expressed in Islamic terms like this:

Creation is like a finger that moves.

The will behind the movement is Allah’s command.

The command is continuous, like an unseen GPS signal.

The finger is not the will, but without the will it cannot move at all.





Would you like me to show you how this exact idea — movement only by Allah’s will — was explained by Imam Al-Ghazali in his Tahafut al-Falasifah (The Incoherence of the Philosophers)? It might surprise you how close you are to him.


Revelation contrast

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Excellent — let’s look at how Al-Ghazali and Ibn Arabi read these Qur’anic ideas differently, but both within Islam. I’ll connect each verse with their perspective:


🌙 1. Allah is al-Ḥaqq (The Truth) — Qur’an 22:62

“That is because Allah is the Truth (al-Ḥaqq)…”

Al-Ghazali:

Allah alone is the Necessary Being; everything else is contingent.

Creation is real, but it borrows its existence every moment from Allah.

Like a lamp — the bulb glows, but only because electricity sustains it.


Ibn Arabi:

Allah is the only Real existence.

Creation has no independent essence at all; it is Allah’s tajallī (self-disclosure).

Like shadows — they appear real, but they have no substance apart from the object casting them.




🌙 2. Allah sustains all — Qur’an 35:41

“Allah holds the heavens and the earth so they do not cease…”

Al-Ghazali:

This shows Allah’s constant will keeps the universe in place.

If Allah withdraws His sustaining power, the world ends instantly.

For him, this is proof of dependence (faqir) of creation.


Ibn Arabi:

The “holding” is not separate from Allah’s being — the very existence of creation is Allah’s continuous presence.

He might say: the world is like breath — it only exists as long as it is being exhaled.




🌙 3. Creation as signs — Qur’an 3:190

“Indeed, in the creation of the heavens and the earth… are signs (āyāt).”

Al-Ghazali:

Signs are meant to guide you to Allah, but they are not Allah Himself.

You look at a star and say: “This proves the wisdom of the Creator.”

It is a path of evidence, pointing beyond itself.


Ibn Arabi:

Signs are faces of Allah’s Names.

The star doesn’t only point to Allah’s wisdom — it is Allah’s wisdom made visible in creation.

You are looking at a “mirror” of the Divine Attribute.



🌙 4. Allah as the only cause — Qur’an 8:17

“When you threw, it was not you who threw, but Allah threw.”

Al-Ghazali:

This proves that creatures are not real causes.

Humans act, but Allah creates the effect. (This is his doctrine of occasionalism).

Example: Fire doesn’t burn cotton by itself — Allah creates the burning whenever fire touches cotton.


Ibn Arabi:

Same verse, but with mystical coloring.

He sees human action as Allah acting through the servant.

Your hand is Allah’s tool — when you act, it is ultimately Allah manifesting His will through you.






✅ So the difference in essence:

Al-Ghazali → Distinction preserved: Allah is the Creator, creation is dependent, signs point beyond themselves.

Ibn Arabi → Unity emphasized: creation is a mirror of Allah’s essence, signs are His manifestations, nothing exists but Him.



Revelation 1

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Perfect. Let’s root this directly in the Qur’an so your contemplation stands on revelation, not just philosophy. Here are a few passages that capture the balance:



🌙 1. Allah is the Only True Reality

> “That is because Allah is the Truth (al-Ḥaqq), and whatever they call upon besides Him is falsehood, and because Allah is the Most High, the Most Great.”
(Surah al-Ḥajj 22:62)



🔹 This anchors you: only Allah exists in Himself (bi’l-dhāt). Everything else is secondary, dependent.



🌙 2. Creation Exists Only by His Sustaining Power

> “Allah holds the heavens and the earth so they do not cease. And if they should cease, no one could hold them after Him. Indeed, He is Most Forbearing, Forgiving.”
(Surah Fāṭir 35:41)



🔹 The universe is not an illusion, but it is suspended every moment by Allah’s will. Without Him, it collapses instantly.




🌙 3. Creation as Signs (Āyāt)

> “Indeed, in the creation of the heavens and the earth, and the alternation of night and day, are signs (āyāt) for those of understanding.”
(Surah Āl-ʿImrān 3:190)



🔹 The world is real, but its function is symbolic — to point back to Allah.




🌙 4. Allah as the Ultimate Cause

> “And when you threw, it was not you who threw, but Allah threw.”
(Surah al-Anfāl 8:17)



🔹 This verse destroys the illusion of independent causes. Just as Hume doubted causality, Islam clarifies: no cause has power except Allah.




✅ Put together, these verses give you a safe compass:

Allah is al-Ḥaqq (the only Absolute).

The world is real but dependent, not self-sufficient.

The world is a sign, a mirror to recognize Him.

Allah alone acts, creation has no power of its own.







The creation


Alright, let’s anchor this in Islamic terms, so your contemplation doesn’t leave you floating in Hume’s uncertainty.


🌙 1. Allah as al-Ḥaqq (The Absolute Reality)

  • In Islam, Allah is called al-Ḥaqq — the only true existence.
  • Everything else is created (makhluq) and dependent (faqir). It exists, but not independently.
  • Example: A shadow is real, but it only exists because the object and the light exist. Likewise, the world is real, but only because Allah sustains it.

🌙 2. Creation as Āyāt (Signs)

  • The Qur’an calls creation āyāt (signs).
  • Signs do not exist for themselves — their purpose is to point back to Allah.
  • So when you see a tree, a star, or your own heartbeat, you are not seeing something “separate”; you are seeing a pointer to Allah’s Names and Attributes.

🌙 3. Al-Ghazali’s Framing

  • He would say: creation is ḥaqq bi’l-ghayr (real through Another), not ḥaqq bi’l-dhāt (real in itself).
  • Meaning: yes, the world is real, but its reality is borrowed from Allah’s sustaining power.
  • If Allah withholds His will even for a second, it vanishes.

🌙 4. Ibn Arabi’s Framing

  • He would push further: since all creation is only a manifestation of Allah’s Names, what you see is Allah’s tajalli (self-disclosure).
  • But he never meant you are Allah or the tree is Allah. Rather, the tree exists only as a mirror reflecting the Divine Attribute (e.g., al-Ḥayy, The Living).

🌙 5. The Balance (Your Safe Compass)

  • Islam balances between:
    • Tanzīh → Allah is utterly unlike creation, beyond all imagination.
    • Tashbīh → Creation reflects His Attributes (mercy, power, wisdom).
  • The heart of faith is to hold both: Allah is close (everything reminds you of Him), but also beyond (nothing is Him except Him).

🌙 6. Where Hume Fits (and Where He Breaks)

  • Hume doubts cause and effect, leaving you with skepticism.
  • Islam redirects this doubt into tawḥīd: “There is no cause except Allah.”
  • Fire does not burn by itself — Allah makes it burn (Ibrahim 14:69). Water does not quench thirst by itself — Allah makes it do so.
  • This way, what Hume calls “illusion” becomes, in Islam, a reminder: only Allah acts, creation is just the stage.

✅ So in Islamic terms:

  • The world is not illusion (like Hume feared).
  • The world is real but dependent (Al-Ghazali).
  • The world is a reflection of the One Reality (Ibn Arabi).
  • Your heart’s role: See the signs, but never confuse the sign with the Sign-Maker.



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