I just want to be a companion

I don’t have lofty goals.

I don’t care if I’m rich or poor,

Famous or unknown.

I just want to be your companion,

to be a comfort to your soul.

I just want to walk beside you

on this journey Home.

Just give me shelter from the storm

and let me grow.

I’ll be your garden

in a rose.


This is my poem of the day. It isn’t about me wanting to be married or even to have a partner or anything. I’m really happy with life the way it is. Even the parts I’m working on improving, I love the process of trying to improve them and myself! But I had a dream just before fajr prayer today that told me I could live any life I wanted, and this poem came from my heart in response to that.

Yes, I want to use my gifts and life-energy to benefit the beloved creatures of God, inshaAllah, but I know I can do that without being a best-selling author or starting a wildly successful social enterprise or founding a permaculture fiber farm women’s refuge and shelter (all dreams I’ve held dearly in my heart for decades now!).  I can alleviate the suffering of God’s beloved creatures by learning to restrain my tongue, by being patient, and saying thank you, with sincere warmth and gratitude, to the one who strikes at me with their tongue or intention. I can do it by being truly kind and absolutely trustworthy. I can do it be being companion and friend who is a constant source of comfort, and knowing my boundaries, so my love never wells up from a place of bitterness.

I can achieve my dream without these lofty, worldly goals. I can achieve them in every moment in which my heart is awake and sitting on the throne of my consciousness. So where does that leave me with the knowledge that I can live any life I wish? What do I really want? I want to be a companion, a lover, a friend. I want to taste the warmth of the sun on my cheeks with someone. I want a companion with whom to seek to uncover the Truth in every corner of the world and within ourselves, and to learn together from the dragonfly, the spider, and the cottonwood tree, and from the kindness in a stranger’s eyes. I want someone beside me to witness all of it, together. I want to feel the smile in his eyes caress my heart. I want to feel the salty sea wind in my face, whipping my hair back, with him beside me. I want to taste life. I want to taste Life. I want to witness the majesty of the mountain range and of the human spirit manifested in cultures and arts around the world.

I want to travel the dusty backroads of the world to sit at the feet of the humble and patient to learn their secrets. I want to love. I want to be a friend, a lover, a companion. I want to live a life where the feel of the fabric on my skin reminds me of the ecstasy of the Beloved’s touch on my soul.

And, I am. That is my life. And that companion is with me in every moment, He is my Beloved, and in every moment of my life, He is teaching me about Himself. He is revealing His Truth. He is revealing He IS Truth, whether I want to see it or not. He is my Beloved, my Companion, my Friend, and I exist only to love and serve Him, by loving and serving His beloved creatures, and by witnessing His perfect Beauty and Majesty in every moment, in everything around me, because la illaha ilallah there is no reality but God. There is no truth but God. There is no love but God. There is nothing that exists, but God.

The tree in my dream said I could have anything I want in this world, and I realized I already have it all, and it is perfect.



Allahu Akbar



Side by Side

Side by side


Walking side by side,
we step in time.
You were my eyes when I was blind.
You were my heart when I was dead inside.
As I struggled against the chains, to get free
lying alone on the sharp gravel road, bleeding,
you were my heart beating.

You were the quicksand beneath my feet.
You were the hand that reached
across worlds and time
to launch my spirit into the sky.

You were the heavy stones that crushed me,
and you were the gentle hand
that put back all the jagged pieces.

You taught me how to fly,
and together we danced
between the stars and through the forests,
and between the horizons, we balanced,
hand in hand, you caught my tears,
and transformed them into poetry,
right before my eyes.

You swam beside me through the seas,
two dolphins dancing across the waves with ease.
Always beside me,
we sat together on the mountainside
and watched the glory of your genius unfolding
across the land, into the skies.

Your gift was amazement and delight.
Your love brought me back to life.
You were the darkness that descended
and taught me the beauty of the night sky.
You were the sun at dawn.

You turned my darkness to light.
And now we’re dancing together
toward the land beyond time.

Walking together,
side by side,
your hand in mine.

Day 13: Love Is…

Poem Day 13: Love Is…

Love is pulling on the padded rubber work gloves to start my chore on the damp, sunny farm.
Love is the mid-morning sun smiling above, with light clouds promising the possibility of rain.
Love is the birds singing from the trees all around, chirrup chirrup, tsing tsing!
Love is the hum of bees going about their daily busy-ness.
Love is the crunch of gravel under my white cowboy-booted feet.
Love is the smell of damp earth, and healthy goats, of pig slop, and recent rain that promises to return again, soon.
Love is greeting Patrick, my young goat friend, who often wanders around the farm friendless, after his overburdened mother rejected him.
Love is caressing his strawberry blond cheek and scratching behind his budding horns.
Love is gathering the bundle of spindly young bushes, ready to plant.
Love is the sudden whoosh! of water released from the spigot on the side of the goat barn, rushing over the tender roots of the bushes, ready to plant.
Love is the uneven hillside carrying water to the fragile creek from the ridge where the barn sits and the goats make their pasture.
Love is my white cowboy boots pinching my ankles, ever so slightly, and the small heel on the grip-less sole, making the hill every so slightly treacherous.
Love is carrying the bundle of spindly, young bushes to the side of the creek.
Love is the heft of the thick wooden handle of the heavy, narrow shovel I’ll use to make a new home for each tender-rooted spindly young bush.
Love is the wet mud and thick grass roots resisting the shovel, but then letting go and welcoming their new companion and neighbor, here to protect their land and waters from the waste of the goat families above.
Love is the warmth of the sun on my sweatshirt-swaddled back as I navigate the uneven wet ground along the creek at the bottom of the gentle hill.
Love is the bleat bleat! of baby goats, calling for their mothers.
Love is the lanky white pup (his name is Olie), who doubles in size every time I see him.
Love is his resignation and taking his place of guardian and friend of the goats, alone, while his father and mother and friends play all over the farm.
Love is Olie not begging to come out of the goat pen with me after I’ve said hello. He knows who he is now.
Love is the ruck-rucka-Roo! of the small black rooster with his bright red crest and cocky tail feather, walking along the fence line.
Love is the tepid coffee with cream I take a swig from when I need a break for my slowly wearying muscles.
Love is the grass bending but not breaking beneath my uncertain feet, as I tromp back and forth from hole to bush bundle, bush bundle to new hole that will be a young bush’s new home.
Love is being given a prayer with each planting, “Oh Allah, help them grow. May each be a source of protection and healing for this land, and may this land be a source of healing and protection for all. Amin.”
Love is being given a prayer and the moment to say it in.
Love is the slow exhaustion of my muscles and the heaviness of my breath, as the shovel gets heavier and heavier and the ground gets more treacherous under my cowboy-booted feet with pinched ankles.
Love is the gift of healthy body that allows me to plant bushes on my friend’s farm on a sunny and warm Saturday morning.
Love is Patrick, the baby billy goat, with his strawberry blond fur and no mother, keeping me company and trying to eat the leaves off the newly-planted bushes.
Love is me shooing him away from the bushes and caressing his cheek.
Love is Patrick, the baby billy goat with no mother, returning my caress with a nuzzle against my cheek and his head tucked under my chin.
I love you little billy goat.
We are Love.

Day 12: “What do I want to say?”

Day 12: “What do I want to say?”

What do I want to say?
I found myself
and I want to rejoice,
to dance on the roof tops
and bound from cloud to cloud
exclaiming the perfection
of being alive.

Is that what I wanted to share?

I broke, I crumbled,
this year.
I became the dust on my blue and peach patchwork bed spread.
I couldn’t go to work,
I laid in bed till 1pm, the afternoon light bright in my turquoise-curtained room.
Who am I and why am I here?
Poor and alone, in debt up to the skies,
and nothing in sight.

Did I take a wrong turn?

I gathered my pieces, and sorted through
the crushed brown stones,
the gray dust
and bits of bright ruby and diamond.
I think I’ll keep these, I thought,
as I tucked the jewels in my purse,
and tossed the rocks and dust to the wind,
to float down the river that flows
past my home
for now
at the Buddhist temple.

I was lost and then I found myself
right where I am
already doing
what I’m meant to be doing:

writing this poem,

right here
right now.

Poem Day 11: A New Day Rises

I’m jumping up and down in delight.
I see a fork in the road,
and I don’t yet know
where either path goes.

But I know He’ll lead me down the High Road
of perfect destruction
and eternal delight
in the everlasting moment.
He’ll lead me, hand in Hand,
held tight in His embrace,
to see a new hue,
a new pattern,
of His Beloved Face.

I squeal
so anxious for Him to reveal,
what new Shangri La
or X marks the spot
where hidden treasure
waits for the foolhardy
walking the tight rope over the chasm
with her hand in His
and the other on her heart.

I’ve been a fool from the start,
never choosing to play a part.
in this great play,
never picking a team
in this ever-dying game,
where nothing is as it seems.

I try to follow the path
my heart sees,
glowing bright little bread crumbs
in the dark.
Where will I go next,
and where will I embark
to explore new seas?

I’m squealing in delight,
because, after so long,
I see the faintest sliver of light
in the east.
A new day rises
in the blessed night.
I jump up and down,
because my Beloved arrives.
What new treasure
will be revealed,
with the new days’ Light?

Day 9: “Please Stay”

Day 9: Please Stay

Oh Beloved, I’m coming!
Please wait, don’t turn away!
Break down all these walls
so I can see You,
Please calm all these waves
so I can feel You,

Oh Beloved, please forgive me!
I get lost, I get high,
I lose track of wrong and right.
I’m weak,
and I’m afraid.

Please don’t turn my heart away!
Break me, shake me, take away everything
I’ve ever loved or desired,
but please,
Oh my Beloved,
please stay.

Please stay.

Day 8: “Cleaning Out My House”

Day 8: Cleaning Out My House

I’m cleaning out my house.
There’s too much clutter here.
The stink of decades old refuse
is overwhelming.

I’m cleaning out my house.
I trip and fall on trash everyday,
and I can hardly ever find
what I’m looking for.

I’m cleaning out my house,
and inviting my Beloved to live here.

I’m cleaning out my house.
I’m moving out.

Poem Day 4: “Promise”

Day 4: “Promise”

I’m so sorry I couldn’t stay
wings clipped
in your gilded cage
(I would have, but you know me too well,
thank you, my love,
for not letting my light fade)
from the beginning
I promised you it would be this way

you always knew there would come a day
when it would be time for me to fly away
it was a promise I made
so long ago
by the Grace of Allah, my promise is true
and now you know

and I promise
this seven years were only
seeds scattered in my heart
and the garden has yet to bud
and bloom
we have yet to even taste the fruit
this, I promise you

I just have so much to do
because, years before I ever met you,
I promised a Face I never knew
that I would never look away from the shadow
that consumes

I will never forget
I promise you

and I ask you to promise me
you’ll meet me on the other side
so we can be neighbors in Paradise
or be born to the same tawny doe in the forest
twin fawns, frolicking in the grass
until we must part ways
at last

let’s be reborn together as a dandelion patch!
meandering the meadows together
on the wind
flying as tiny seeds with silver thatch

promise me you’ll find me when it’s all over
and I promise I’ll never forget you
as I go on my way
as I fly
you know I’m a dancer
with the angels in the sky
with the demons inside
and I can’t stop
to stop is to die

but I promise
I will never forget
and you know I’ve never lied,
if you promise me to meet me when all is said and done
promise to meet me on the other side

promise to meet me on the other side

Poem Day 6: Belonging

Day 6: Belonging

Walking imperfectly through this perfect life,
where am I going?
It’s almost time for me to leave.
Caught in the vortex, unending.
Everything is the same,
I must be brave,
and let go of the pattern, unchanging
each day,
only shifts in intensities
of the same old hues and shades.

What am I looking for?
My soil,
to take root.
Do I need high acidity
and more clay,
or sweet,
rich with dead life,
and easily drains?

I look in the mirror.
Who am I?
My skin around my eyes cracks and sags,
showing her longing to reach back into the earth,
to rest in peace.
Everyday I watch as my life flickers
and everyday a little light fades.

I lean far out the window of my room
of the Buddhist temple where I stay
until I’m ready to be on my way,
and I take a single, long drag
on this joint a guy gave
because he wants my body
to taste,
this beautiful living corpse
made of blood and clay.

A sinner,
I’m heading to the grave.
But every turn I take
another shiny, smiling face.
I love this place,
but I have to leave.
I love them all,
but they want too much from me,
and I would give it all.
I have to leave,
so there’s some left over for me.

And God, they can’t see.
So they don’t know why I live,
why I breathe.
They don’t really know me.

Where do I belong?
In this place?
I’m looking for the Rainbow,
every hue & shade of the Face,
learning to love it all,
Al-Jamaal and Al-Jalaal
Shadow and Light,
Night and Day,
But I need to leave now
and I must be brave,
because I’m searching for where I belong.
I’m heading back to my grave.


You Let Go

A fae prince, you

found me, wandering alone,

lost in a dark wood.

I stood surrounded on all sides

by gnarled and grimacing demons,

their malice clear,

ready to devour me if they could.


You took my hand

and twirled me round and round,

into the heart of your charmed land,

dancing, feasting, jewels and glitter.

Glamoured, the fantasy sparkling

as we danced our dream into being,

the world’s greatest secret

woven into reality with nothing but words,

so quietly.


You and I,

our little game,

two imps, childlike, playing

at love,

never knowing

we would never be the same.


Then you soon realized why,

why it was I was lost in that dark wood,

alone and confused,

bleeding from deep, festering wounds

that refused to heal.


You watched the storms come for me,

great waves of icy shadows

washing over my pale body


Drowning, I struggling to breathe.


You took my hand,

and promised to never let go.

My fae prince, with the world at his knees,

held me close,

with a tenderness I could not believe,

could never imagine that it truly belonged to me.


You took my hand,

and promised to never let go,

to never let my head dip below

into the sticky, slowly swirling waters of the abyss,

sucking me inexorably

into the Void,

where light long ago ceased to exist.


You saw me struggle to stay afloat,

trying just to keep my head above water,

one feeble stroke after another,

to make it back to shore.

You held my hand, you crafted the boat,

and lifted me up,

one hand after the other.


You held on,

and each time, the wave receded,

and, for a time, the icy waters were forgotten.

So, we returned to our dance,

Sublime, we danced, playing,

imps with mischief in our eyes

sparking fires

the whole world could see,

and slowly, over many years,

the storms eased,

and the waves began to recede.


I grew stronger,

my stroke sure,

I learned to swim,

and the water grew pure.

I became the fish I was always meant to be.

I learned what the storms had come to teach me.


And you watched as I swam new seas,

discovering radiant realities buried deep

in the folds of our being.

I had discovered new worlds,

even, perhaps, catching a glimpse of the most spectacular Reality,

and I said, “swim with me, join me in the deep!”


But you wouldn’t come.

You refused to join me,

preferring the glitter and glamour of the parties,

the feasting, the beautiful fae princesses and queens.


And I,

released from the chains of the storms and waves,

was ready to brave being free.

And you,

you held my hand,

and promised to never let go.

My fae prince, with the world at his knees,

held me close,

giving me a love I had never known,

with a tenderness I could not believe,

though you tried and tried to let me know.


It never occurred to me that it was me that you need.

My fae prince, with the world on its knees,

how could you need me?

So I begged and I pleaded,


Let me go!

If you won’t join me in the caves of wonder,

filled with the rarest jewels, glowing.

Let me go!”


But you always said no.

I said, “Don’t you see?

I don’t believe!

I don’t belong in your world of fairy princesses and queens,

silk dresses and sharp gems, glittering.”

Because how could I believe a simple fish like me,

meant for diving into the most hidden depths of the deep,

could belong in world so fancy,

that if the truth were known

these princesses and queens

would die laughing.


And so I pleaded and pleaded,

ignoring your pleas.

I couldn’t hear you when you cried,

“Don’t leave!”

I never thought,

I could never let myself believe,

that you also needed me.

And I thought to myself, always,

Especially when I would almost start to believe the dream,

“Don’t be silly!

Why me?

It simply could never be.

That could never be my reality.

It’s no more than a fae fantasy,

a glamour I’ve been tricked into believing!”


So after years of my pleading,


you let go.


And now,

I’m alone.

And I’m afraid I’ve made my greatest mistake,


I’ll never know.

Is belief in a Creator logical?

Q: Is belief in a Creator logical? Followed by a conversation between me and God, using what God said in response to the same questions asked by others in the past, as recorded in the Qur’an or Hadith Qudsi. If you can get through the first part, the second part is a lot weirder and more interesting. Sorry this is so long. I did nothing all day except think about this.

(Please note: No need to be concerned about my mental health! I know many people out there think I’m crazy. That’s ok. But don’t worry about me. I am and 100% comfortable with that. Thanks!)

Also, this isn’t edited. Just a stream of thought. I went back and forth across it to see if I was missing any ideas or connections, but often got sidetracked into another line of thought, and then didn’t finish that one because I remember I had gotten sidetracked. So this may not be very linear. My mind isn’t linear, and putting it into words isn’t very easy. It should really be represented by a mind map, but it’s not. Please let me know if there are holes so I can see what if anything goes there or if I had reached a dead end and the process that followed is empty. Thanks!)

Q: Does a Creator exist?

A: There are two possibilities: yes and no.

There is a Creator and everything is part of an intention, or there is no Creator and everything happened by chance.

Continue reading “Is belief in a Creator logical?”