Skip to main content

*Something for Muzakara about ilm- Divine Knowledge*


📚The place of ilm was Masjid,  that was our very Madrassa, in the Majalis of Ulama  who carried this light of Divine knowledge. When learning or seeking of this ilm went out of Masjid,   We lost that Noor of ilm. though we have larger books and libraries outside.

📚The place of learning ilm was by sitting humbly on the floor,  when we raised our position to high chairs and desks,  we lost the humility (تواضع)

📚The aim of ilm is the Pleasure of Allah,  when we made that goal to certificates and titles,  we lost the Ikhlas.

What's then left is a bunch of information and not the true knowledge that enlightened the hearts.

Though this cannot be generalised, much of qualities we did lose when we shifted our traditional ways to modern professional ways.

If you are really seeking knowledge,  there still be a scholar somewhere nearby you, who possess that knowledge. They are recognized by the fruits of knowledge in them. As the true beauty is often  covered in nature,  only the seekers of knowledge finds the source of knowledge.

_Knowledge is like a tree. It's very nature is to go upwards.. But when  fruits emerge,  the tree bends down in humility_

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Sheikh Abdul Rahman Al-Sudais

The days in Jeddah are rolling one over the other. It is like a book with one page printed on multiple pages. The same chapter repeating every day. Days start with normal sunrise and ends with sunset. Nothing is special except one has the peaceful life and self freedom without disturbing others. But things differ sometimes when I visit to Makah which is just an hour drive from here. The Masjidul Haram and the Ka’ba which is a black cubical structure located at the center of the grand Mosque is the core of it. Each time one sees it, send chills to the heart and veins even if one has seen it thousands of time. Something that makes your heart feels by looking at which is never the very same that you see in a pictures or in TVs. Yesterday I was sitting in the Mataf or the central open area of Masjidul Haram, there is nothing more beautiful than spending sometimes there and watching the circling of the Ka’ba going on peacefully all the time. Different nationals and different colors. All c

The Ansar Masjid, Kasaragod

Photos remind not only about a place but also the time. Especially photo of a place where once you had been living for a span of time and left that place for some reason. Looking at such photo is joyous and heart soothing. That would increase in folds if that place were so dearer to you. It will take yourself spiritually to that place and remind you of your old days. Your hearts clasps it's feathers and flies back through the garden of it's memories. I should say, How can the joy of one's inner self be portrayed or explained to someone else. Can we share it, or is it between our heart and the Creator of it. Mostly tongs fails to express what one feels actually and the pens fails to write. Beauty is what our heart pictures as beautiful to us. A poor man's hut is as beautiful to his eyes as the mighty palace of a king in his eyes. I loved the beauty of nature. To think about is what a true believer should do always. How beautiful is life when we see positive in a

Safwan my Boy!

Ismail Eliat Safwan Eliat If you remember your childhood of city life at Jeddah, I remember mine of my village in southern India. You were born in a well setup Hospital while I was born at the very village home of my mom where there were no electricity. You grew seeing Tom and Jerry and Merry cartoons, I grew listening to bedtime stories of my grandmas. Your plays were with toys and computer games, my toys were the coconut leaves and paper boats. You went to school in air-conditioned buses, I went to my village school walking through the paddy fields. You grew up under well-lit lamps of all types, I grew up with smells of kerosene lamps and half lit bulbs. Your modern days are my later world of my life's journey. Whereas my past has disappeared behind the horizons which you may well read them as 'Once upon a time' or as a 'Fairy tales' in your school books. الولد سر أبيه -  Son is the secret of his father (