Born Confused

Ibby (11:06:16 PM):what are u feeling now ilana?
me (11:06:37 PM):a lot
Ibby (11:06:43 PM):can u stretch and freely move ur arm?
me (11:06:56 PM):yes alhudmullah
Ibby (11:07:01 PM):good
me (11:07:08 PM):hahah
me (11:07:27 PM):for a sec i didn’t think you were talking aboutthe physical’
Ibby (11:07:50 PM):hahahaha that was cute
Ibby (11:08:01 PM):do u wanna go into the non-physical?
me (11:08:50 PM):it’s a challenge i like to undertake
Ibby (11:09:09 PM):why do u call it a challenge?
Ibby (11:09:25 PM):(i can see why but want to hear it from u)
me (11:09:27 PM):becasue it’s easy to ignore it all
me (11:09:36 PM):to not think
me (11:09:51 PM):accept things the way they are
me (11:09:52 PM):LOOOLLZ
Ibby (11:21:45 PM):lemme share some things with u from this old book i have
Ibby (11:22:21 PM):”Humility is the silencing of one’s innermost being while reverentially witnessing Allah (Most High)”
Ibby (11:22:43 PM):”Humility is a humbled low state that comes upon the heart when the Lord is disclosed”
Ibby (11:23:08 PM):”Humility is the melting and hiding of the heart in the presence of the Sovereign King of Truth”
Ibby (11:23:30 PM):”Humility is the prelude to being overwhelmed and overpowered by awe”

Ibby (11:26:07 PM):here think of this
Ibby (11:26:22 PM):”arrogance toward one who is arrogant to you on account of his wealth, is humility”
me (11:28:37 PM):*thinking*
Ibby (11:28:47 PM):hahaha
me (11:30:11 PM):what book is this from?
Ibby (11:30:17 PM):by the way those are all from “The Principles of Sufism” by Abu’l Qasim Qushayri
Ibby (11:30:35 PM):trans in english by a number of ppl
Ibby (11:30:51 PM):the trans here is some german guy named B. Von Schlegell
me (11:32:06 PM):mashAllah
me (11:32:13 PM):that’s supper cool
Ibby (11:34:24 PM):so what are u thinking
me (11:35:17 PM):I went to wash my face
Ibby (11:36:13 PM):were u crying? or something else?
Ibby (11:36:39 PM):”Shame is the heart’s contracting in order to exalt the expansive majesty of the Lord”
Ibby (11:36:48 PM):i like that one

My brain is on overload. Less then 8 hours of sleep per a week is critically detrimental. No sleep yesterday, barely any sleep today. Well, I’ll spare you a complaining rant. There is just so much work. Alhumdullah. It’s very cold too. It snowed two days ago. And there’s still bloody snow on the ground. Alhumduillah.
Went to the second day of Hanukkah celebration with Hillel and a discussion between Middle East Peace and Hillel about the two female activists–one from Israel, the other from Palestine—that came a couple of days ago.
It seemed it was the catalyst for discussion on Israel and Palestine and the informative and anecdotal discussion that followed was absolutely amazing. Middle East Peace, Hillel and MSA inshAllah is definitely doing a collation for events… the possibilities… my head, the experience, has still yet to put itself around.
Michael Young’s eloquent speech yesterday on Lebanon… that too, I have to think about. Unique. Profound. The specificity and art in which he talked with the philosophic art of vagueness definitely left an impression on me. Nevertheless, I have still yet to grasp (with a plaguing skepticism) all in which he entailed.
Perchance it is a resultant of a disadvantageous deficiency of slumber.
Afterward, I was dragged into another meeting with Middle East Peace. Hookah—appropriately named Lolita due to certain characters and charm of a balmy apartment, humming with warmth away from the Mistress of Icy’s domain outside, as a soliloquy of melody tinged the air; mixed, and captured a romantic air of philosophy, luxury and laze, even a slight sexuality with a spark of zealousness as we smoothly spoke… it was passed to me, but as tempting as it was to let the smoke relieve my burning eyes, I reached a resolution that until I knew how I felt about it first, without the biasness of context, pressure and ease… I wasn’t going to smoke. Maybe that’s an oxymoron in itself, dismissing something for myself before I’ve even tried it, but I know myself, apt to addiction yet I am so accepting of those who do it. It means nothing to me. But when the action involves myself, I am so indecisive and therefore refrain… I wonder if that makes me a hypocrite.
As I walked back to my dorm I looked at the chilling wide expanse of the sky; stars, dreams far away—but bright enough to capture the imagination of the future in a seemly defiance of time: the constant on which the consistency of concepts is measured.
Then I looked at the ground, wondering if I put pressure on a different part of the palm of my feet, if I lifted my foot and set it down in a slightly different way if it affected the way I felt and perceived the world.
Then a superficial spasm of vigor took over for a moment (I suspect it was the shivering flinch of goosebumps) and I jumped into the air, as if I expected I would fly off and instead came back to earth with a solidness bring back my aching sick head and with it a convoluted weakness that overtook me as I entered my dorm, away from the expanse of the sky.
Oye, never ending soliloquies with subconscious theoretical alienable truths tied in with incomprehensible metaphors seems to be a symptom of two hours of sleep. Perhaps I should get the third, since a busy day awaits me; as my computer takes it sweet time uploading blights.
Yes, defiantly I think I have bordered madness. I shall blame inclusive, defective Slumber that holds no defensive against the ever-powerful Obligations.

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