Resurrection

Image by https://pixabay.com/users/owifanclub-15474005/

I probably won't publish this for real, as it's boring me just to write it.

However, this is the first time in two years, I have felt like writing. So it gets published here.

Thank you kambo and psycobilin. I took way too long and was too unreasonably scared to take you earlier.

***

Ghar

We waited patiently in the rain for the gaari. I wasn't expecting so many people to come to meet me, as I had been the one no one really cared about in my family.

But because things had drastically changed in all of our lives due to the unexpected things that had occurred, I had asked an old school friend to collect me. I wasn't sure if this was the right move, but sometimes we have very few moves to make. We make them and pray for the best.

She brought her husband and youngest son, and had convinced my mother to come with them in the same car.

My mother, Zubeida, was a cheerful old lady and she hugged me tightly when she saw me. I was taken aback, and had to calm my anxiety when that happened. She had shrunk considerably due to old age, although she wasn't as old as compared to her aunts.

Her eyes widened when she saw me. I was waiting to see what she would say, and she said it straight away. Her manner could be very direct, like the butter knife cutting through the makhan. I had battled with her energy for years: it was this piercing, hurtful energy and although she didn't really mean to hurt me, she was toxic as hell.

"Tooli, look, don't get upset with me, hain, but I brought you a lovely pacheri to wear on your head, cover your hair, your neck. Ya Allah," she whispered in my ear, "no sharam? Such a short top, such tight jeans? Come on, Tooli, this is Pakistan. All the drivers will be staring at you."

The heart began to race at excess speeds, and I began to flush in the cheeks.

YA HALEEM. YA HALEEM. The Most Forbearing One. Allah is forbearing, make me remember you at the time of great need. Loosen my tongue with Thy light, so I may say that which needs to be said, so that they can understand my words...

I took the coloured cotton cloth strip. It was a pretty colour, shades of blue tie and dye, but 30 year old Batul was not going to back down.

"Thank you, meri jaan. I won't be wearing it, but thank you for thinking of my safety in that way. Ufff, I can smell the mitti. Uff I left this too long, but there was no way I could come here in the halaat."

The car came, the driver took my bags in the dikki, and we all clambered into the car and slowly weaved our way out of Quaid e Azam airport. One of the nicer and well maintained places in Karachi.

It makes me feel alien. I never seem to fit in anywhere. Not here, not London, not Toronto. Turkey and Iraq, maybe, but they never were real options for me.

-----

What is the story theme?

Maturity and awakening by going back to childhood home
Interesting and broken characters
Beauty of Karachi
Spirituality and truth - healing in the stories

there is a scent

The background for this piece of work is after three weeks of being told to stay at home, and all life and seeming progress has halted for not just me, but for many others.

I had hoped and prayed that this week would be different, but not enough people have empowered themselves, of whom I am one.

The depressions that hit me again were firstly that any relationships I had tenderly, slowly, carefully rebuilt, all came crashing back to zero.

I have had to face the fact that, for some very odd reason, I just am going through a time whereby people who have a strong connection with me are non existent. I'm literally contacting my mother almost every day because - she is my mother. God has genuinely placed love for me in her heart, and for her in mine. I'm being kind to my father as much as I am able to, because of him I have a house and am not melting down due to lack of money.

But the aunts with whom I was communicating with, the cousins I had reconnected with, the friends I was making connections with... they have been struggling with the drastic changes in their own lives. It was easier for each of us to cope with our struggles because we had the ability to go somewhere else for a while.

I wonder if there are different layers of love, and if I personally have to go through this deep isolation so that I have the opportunity to ask again and again, "Allah, please enter my heart and fill up all of the loneliness that I feel, so that I don't get upset, feel victimised, ignored or devastated." This inner child work takes ages, and a huge chunk is also past life pain and trauma.

Same cycles going over again.

This time, however, I have fallen deep inside the emotions. As much as I could. I have lain down and held myself and cried and felt the anxiety, and the panic and the despair and just let it shake through, flow through, and then the tears come through.

I can't breathe very well these days, it has been the case for the last three weeks. I am concerned if this is the result of 5G microwaving my body.

There are so many fears and concerns, and the general theme is that of helplessness.

So the last two weeks have not been very productive for me, dragging heavy heavy energy around.

Today, I am writing here after clearing energy and trying to shift the heaviness.

I am half way through an article I wanted to write about my life experiences, and my confusing relationship with Islam and with Allah. I was happy to write it, and then the next day the depression kicked in again and I have not touched it in a week.

So at least, I have written this.

***

One of the Sufi healers, he has the softest and gentlest demeanour of the people I have met in my life.

He told me about a specific Mohammedan scent, about how Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) has a very specific scent that is also recognisable.

And it just made me feel so much at peace to know that I have a connection to that.

So let us see if I can break through all of these challenges and obstacles.

The main thing for me is to face the fears, acknowledge them and then heal them.

The fears of being attacked and unjustly treated by authorities are still very high. And still find it difficult being around Caucasian people, I get intimidated. Don't ask me why (racism and low self esteem that is still there).

Anyway, at least I wrote something.

It was cathartic for me.

so hidden in God

“A woman's heart
should be so hidden
in God that a man has
to seek Him
just
to
find
her.”

- Maya Angelou



****

i tried again, God.

i thought this time would be different
but it just showed me
my delusions and denials.

maybe i was destined
to find a child-like friend
but someone who doesn't even
have the inclination to talk
on the phone.

yet, i love him.
it's a pure love
from one pure soul
for another

i don't even think he loves me back
not in the way i need
just as a friend
or family

i have to go through yet another
grieving process
it's in the eyes
in the heart
in the thymus
grief
disappointment
rage


i am truly appreciative
for the connection
past-life or beyond incarnation

i was trying to make friends with
someone else
but he is in a lot of pain
and my strongly held opinions
clashed with his -
he told me to leave him alone

the losses increase
and You are trying to get through to me

the material tokens
the prestige
the years
the people

i remind myself how some dervishes look on the outside

unkempt
in direct communion with Thee

have i ever experienced a single moment
in my life of that grace
that direct connection with Thee?

am i settling again for form
and not allowing it all to wash away
into molecules
into atoms?

i would like to feel
i am such a woman
who is hidden in God

https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-girl-eye-models-scarf-590490/ caption

i feel i may be one
who is hidden
from
God



i am no longer hiding

but i feel i am still hidden

they tell me to make a list
to buy two pink candles
to recite verses
to make a spell

but is that all that is required
to finally be with a Soul
who is my perfect complement
my soul-mate

a man who would actually recognise me
at first sight
rather than the other way round

the man who would see Goddess
inside of me
and his heart would open
with recognition, love and worship
of Thee

recognising my Light
understanding that I am still only a fallible human,
with many weaknesses,
immense hcallenges,
intense Scorpio energy,
but the respect, the love, the compassion
and the feeling of homecoming,
recognition
would ooze through his eyes?

he would match me in stillness
and i would match him in vigour
we would speak
without speaking

we would not feel ashamed
of gazing into each other's souls

no shame in fucking each other's brains out
whilst calling Thy Holy names
filled with gratitude for Thy plan

pure tantra
pure Union
pure love-making

matching our lust and love into
a litany, an ode
a whispered prayer
a relieved thank you
after my 15 year search

the emotional healing would
of course be in process
but there would be the emotional
connection
most of my holes would be filled
with ME
so that they were no longer hole
but just holy

and the same for him

and my irritability would be
tempered by peace
wisdom
matched by his
wisdom
humility
saying salaam
to humility

the complement
to my mission
on this planet
of self healing
healing others
learning from foolish mistakes
figuring out how to be financially
abundant

he would help me build
my spiritual centre
the healing modality
would heal his traumas

he would understand
the light language
flowing from my hands

and we would both dream of one another
without even making a bedtime intention

but, dearest little one,
you would need to be
an entirely different woman

to the one you show up as right now

frequency
vibes
good luck

just breathe

agar hona hai, hoga eventually
agar iss baari kuch nahi hona

toh hona nahi hai

the end-game is activating and aligning with
my own masculine energy
and truly loving myself as i would like another to love me

and unconditionally love
all the others who crossed my path
and then ran off


my discernment requires work
and this codependency needs
a BPL (bum peh laat)

hide inside of God
the real one
not the ones all these new age people
all these religious people

are shoving down your third eye
implanting you with false ideologies

tu abhi bachhi nahi rahi

grow up, yaar
mature

maturation is vital for meeting with God

and an understanding
that He causes the blindness

and that you only call Him He
because
someone told you to do so

it is of course a moot point
but it does make one question

Sukaina Juma
07/01/2020

(N.B. I'm not even venturing to ask you for a woman - the attraction hasn't ever been so strong that anything happened. Although I am most definitely bisexual, it's more a concept, more an understanding, a vehicle for compassion and tolerance, but not a real experience. Connections are soul based. For some reason, I don't gel with any of the women I have ever met in that way. Meeting the wrong women, then!)

Letters to Manu - One

Note to Reader: I have decided to write letters to my first love who left me 9 years ago - in the hopes that I will be able to write authentically, and just write, pretty much. It is killing me that I can't find anything to write, there is no impetus. One of my main motivations to write is love. To people I love, or about people I love.

If I don't start and continue to write, those novels or books aren't going to get written. I'm already 35 years old and people have told me for the last nine years to write.

Dear Manu,

These letters that I now write to you are after having met you nine whole years ago. Today may have been the day you let me go by written words for the very last time, all those years ago. The good news is that I don't know the dates any longer. I spent 8 long years holding onto you, thinking you were it. That you were my piece of God.

I am writing to you because you are my best friend. Maybe in my imagination, but you are my best friend.

I mean, technically, I need to be my own best friend - but if you are my twin flame, then you are my best friend as well.... is that how it goes, Universe? Please bring clarity to my confusion.

I am doing my best to move on and progress.

This entire healing business, I know it ends at some point. I mean, the collapses and the disappointments and the illusions.

I met a really nice guy and in the space of a month, from not being ready for a romantic relationship, I now feel I am. But he already said we're not compatible and so we can be friends instead.

Now, I don't feel about him the same way I felt about you, or about the other two men I fell for, but it is difficult to deal with a heart that bruises. He's very childlike and has no idea about how it can be to have a sensitive person in your life. I wonder if I am really am just too sensitive.

My shamanic healer Gareth, he had to remove the heart I had and Spirit replaced it with a heart of crystal so that my heart would be stronger and not break each time something like this or worse happens. I feel the psychic surgery worked. I feel disappointed, sad, heart is hurting, but it's not broken.

After all, I've gained a valued and cherished friend. Most of it is my desi, Muslim programming. He knows Urdu, and he's a tad too desi for my liking but he's really nice as a soul. Another soulmate.

****

It really makes me wonder if I ever will find a few romantic partners in life. I really never imagined my life being like this after 2 years of proper healing. But it is. Alhamdulillah.

I'm still financially challenged. That hasn't changed, but I'm trying to be more generous to those who are sans abri and I messed up when I was in Naples, Italy. I got really scared and thought it was too dangerous to talk to them. I now regret it.

I'm determined to become a proper practicing shaman because that's where life is leading me, but that means giving up the regular joys of life. Going out, partying (I've never partied in my life, it's too overwhelming), having bunches of friends and travelling the world over.

As Matt Kahn said in one of his latest videos, we get what we get. We are doing the best with what we get.

I just learned a new healing modality which worked at the time of the course, but this week I'm struggling - possibly because I need to be doing things in the physical world. Such as exercise, going out and having fun, taking care of myself, and writing.

****

Do you know how long it has been? I used to write extensively. You know, you were the poor unwilling victim to tomes and tomes of poetry, written prose and love notes.

My friend told me, very wisely, that I was exposing myself and giving everything to you, warts and all, and you just stood back and observed the carnage.

She was right. I had to continue, though, because I needed to experience it first hand. There was such a pull, a compulsion. Now I just think it was a huge spell, and entities.

But beneath all of that, there is love. There is always a potent, powerful love.

***

Now, I just don't write any longer. God knows when was the last time I channelled a divine poem, a healing poem.

I had another guy from Islamabad have a crush on me recently and sending me erotic poems and some really beautiful poems. From the heart. Channelled.

But messed up emotionally and I deserve better.

I was envious of his poems, haha. Somehow I could inspire him to write such amazing stuff, and here I am - depleted and worn out and heart-bruised.

London has never been the right city for me. Never.

I just didn't have a choice at first. Maybe I came back here because we were meant to meet. We were meant to get married, according to that dream you had in 2017. But we never did. You blocked it, or whatever external influences. Or whatever, who knows?

I'm seeing a Sufi healer on Thursday to help remove the dark magic. It's all over my third eye.

 

But then, if we vibrate high enough, none of this should be able to touch us, right? Unless it is part of the path.

I can't empathise and heal someone going through something without going through it myself. That's always the case.

****

Sometimes I am a priestess, a goddess.

And sometimes I am a mess.

****

You used to write really well when you tried. I remember the sweet things you used to write. They have been coming back to me after all those years. Since September. I could see your face, hear your voice, your words would come to my mind all over again.

I'm just a tad too intense sometimes - but trust me, it's a lot more balanced than when we knew each other.

That's why I thought it would be okay to send you a message on 11/11 last month. I thought it would show me how much I have healed, by how you replied to me.

You had a flippant reply. When I read it, my entire body burned all over again, and I felt sick to my stomach all over again, It felt like pure venom. At first, I thought it was the tone of your reply - then the next day when I re-read it, your reply was fine  just as one writes to a professional colleague.

Is the venom inside of me then? Or is it true what they say about twin flame connection - it actually burns you when it's wrong and messed up?

Anyway, I was going to write more, but I feel this is enough for today.

I still miss you. I remembered that it's your cousin's death anniversary as well this month and I prayed for him because well, why not? Still remember his cat on Facebook. It was a cute cat. His kid must be a teenager now.

****

The best thing for a woman who has only been able to attract unavailable men, and emotionally wounded men is the opportunity to go back within, and heal her hurt selves, the inner child who feels hurt and abandoned.

I am still leaving myself for the other reflection of me.

There is no need for that,

Their light only blinds because you once again dimmed yours.

Please, can we sort the financial blocks please? I'm so tired of that pattern!

My Unpatterned Hands

I begin this in the name of my beloved Creator. I feel very disconnected from the One, who created every single breath and every single soul, yet I hope one day I will return.

It has been a very hot day in London, 27 degrees at the height, and I had some heatstroke around 5-6pm, so when I reported anti-social behaviour (three men about to get into a huge fight in Mitcham Town Centre), I called 101 and told them it was outside of Morrison's instead of outside Poundland. Then, I didn't have a pen to record the CASS number, so I couldn't have called back without embarrassing myself.

This merging the real life reality I find myself facing daily with the desire to become an amazing and healer filled with integrity, it's not happening.

At home, my father is trying his best to continue to humiliate me, today at work we had managers and colleagues doing their best to lower the vibration with passive aggressive behaviour and snide comments, and I wonder if I create all of this, or is the world filled with severely wounded people (I'm refraining from using the choicest of curse words).

It's really getting to me.

My shamanic healing cases haven't begun, I still haven't done the 5 case studies for the soul plan training that I took three years ago, and I am no where near finding a new job that is filled with good vibes, respect, the right kind of work and the income that I deserve and I can then move out.

I feel very emotional and there just seems to not be solutions or support that I need.

I'm retracking my life and trying to see how to not repeat the same mistakes I keep making that have brought me to this really challenging place.

It isn't very clear.

Khair, randomly, I've rediscovered Danish Ali and he's bringing me back to earth with the laughter and the homesickness. I really miss Pakistan. Like, really. The good bits, obviously.

I really hope I can go visit this year. I really need to make it happen. London is sucking me dry.

And I was here for the healers. But that isn't quite working out the way I need.

All I can say is... this spiritual journey that we each are on, it is not easy and it is painful.

Even when you should know how to heal all of this by now.

The title for this was related to the wedding I went to last March - April, my cousin's wedding in Canada. I had assumed it would turn out well for me because these are people who ensure their life turns out well.

It turned out amazingly for them, but not for me. I didn't even get the opportunity to have henna put on my hands for my own cousin' wedding - I had to choose to be the self sacrificing goat yet again, because her friends turned out to be a bit too self-centred and entitled.

None of this matters in the end, but the fact that all of the bs that I am attracting and have for so many years, in spite of all of the healing....

It makes you wonder where you are going wrong.

Khair.

Watch this, and cry with laughter....

Spellbinding Ourselves Throughout Our Infinite Consciousnesses

*** This is a first draft. I have to write this all down. It will birth when the time is right. For others to heal and NOT make the same mistakes I have made, which have had very poor results in real life. Not for my own egoic ends***

Spellbinding Ourselves Throughout Our Infinite Consciousnesses

It is my sincere desire that not a single one of my years of nothingness and immense pain is wasted. I know I will not have any descendants, progeny, children of my own, grandkids... this is something that wasn't part of my life path this time around, mainly because all children are my children spiritually. But it is my sincere wish that someone, a sleeping Starseed, another humble Sufi-shamanic type of soul will be helped by these words on these pages, these thoughts tumbling out in a wave of overwhelming relief at finally seeing the light of day, of being birthed onto planet Earth.

Of shining a light, of healing at the core - the VERY CORE - of the harshest wounds...

As for what I have experiences in the avatar role as Sukaina, it isn't interesting in the least. With great honesty and frankness, my life will never be turned into an autobiography. It has been bland, boring, caged, and mundane enough to have sent me into regular spirals of insanity and despair.

I will not write any lies or untruths.

I will also not be writing anything too specific about my personal life, because it will NOT interest you.

I have somehow been released from the ancient need to have stories, to have many tales to tell of what happened in "reality" and in "actuality".

That which is important is that the little knowledge and wisdom that I have extracted and absorbed from the soul of each experience was not meant just for me. It can't have been just for my education.

It must have also been for someone else, for the collective of Khojas, of women, of Pakistanis, of British born people in the eighties, for someone else who is connected to me on a soul level.

It has to be. I would only go through all of this for the greater good.

Wizards and witches and Sufi masters will sometimes burn themselves in the harshest fires of tribulation (even when, as was my decision, all of it self imposed and self destruction) so that others can cool their eyes and fertilise the soil with the ashes that remain after combustion.

Then the most beautiful roses and sunflowers and daffodils will grow from those ashes, bring the most heavenly indescribable scents to everyone.

There have been myriad lies told to me, and so, so, so many more that I told myself.  No longer acceptable.

I have blinded myself, gauged my own eyes out in spite, and then complained to God for taking away every single spiritual gift I had. For taking away anyone who had once supported me.

And then, recently, I witnessed a woman crawling inside a window, and jumping off a filing cabinet for me. Just for me. To help me out of the cold, and to help me get home. That was unprecedented.

We basically cast spells upon ourselves, and follow through on those our entire lives.

And then one day, some kind healer shaman soul removes the spell, and we are left with just this.

A bat. A soul fragment from when I was 2 years old. Reviving the belief that love is real.

And...

"A notebook and a pen. 

Start writing..."

I had one simple contract with you guys, with my family: hide the light, just hide the goddamned light.

We broke the shackles again and there's no more hiding.

The light is self explanatory, and it is very real.

It is allowed to shine the goddamned light.

I am allowed to be the light.