An exquisite reflection breathing with the quiet wisdom of someone who has found peace, and also learned to inhabit it. I like your final observation: the tension between contentment and creativity. That curious, silent fear that joy might dull the blade of inspiration — what Auden once called “the fever of passion, the lover’s rage / for the beautiful not yet attained.” We are trained, artistically and culturally, to worship the muse of ache, to believe suffering is the crucible of truth. But perhaps that’s just a narrative convenience, a romanticism pretending to be realism.
I wonder if joy, especially of the subtle, grounded kind you describe, isn’t a more difficult muse, not less fertile, but less theatrical. Grief demands to be written. Contentment asks to be lived. And yet, I think of writers like Annie Dillard or Loren Eiseley, who drew entire worlds from a morning beam of sunlight or a ripple in a stream. Or of Rilke, who wrote that “everything is gestation and then bringing forth.” Maybe this is your gestation. The water isn’t gone, it’s simply running quieter, underground.
What if inspiration isn’t a fire to be lit by friction, but a stillness to be undisturbed? What if the creative act in seasons of peace is about becoming porous to meaning the Tao you referenced? The art of presence, then, may not lie in forgetting the self, but in no longer trying to control it…
Keep digging, Akif! Still wells sometimes reveal the clearest water.
"Grief demands to be written. Contentment asks to be lived.". I couldn't have ever said it better myself. How wonderful to be so understood by someone that they can condense your thoughts into a single sentence. I resonate deeply with your understanding, and I'm more thankful than you could know for your participation in my thought processes. As stated before, I tend to write from a place of "not" having the answers, and such interactions are indispensable for me. Thank you for being who you are.
Grief sharpens our language, while contentment softens it into silence. One bleeds into prose; the other disappears into presence. And yet, both crave witness. So if anything I wrote mirrored what you were already circling in your mind… then maybe that’s the magic of resonance: two people arriving at the same unnamed place, one with a pen, the other with recognition. And the other way around sometimes.
Your way of writing from the space of not knowing is exactly what gives it life. Answers are rigid. But questions (especially honest, aching ones) have a way of bending time, of pulling others into your orbit. I’m glad to be part of that gravitational field, Akif!
For so many years, I have seemingly been searching for my Muse, whom I met almost by accident when commencing my midlife journeys to far flung corners of our World, and my mind.
There, amongst the shadows of an Eden longed for since childhood, my muse revealed herself amongst those shadowy recesses, bespangled by iridescent light, and we became one.
For years on my journeys, inward and outward, this memory of her, in that moment of recognition, accompanied my Soul.
Until one day, I found myself prostrate with grief, anxiety, remorse anger and pain.
I came at last to the very end of that journey, how fondly remembered, with a certainty, that I would never return... This state continued for a personal eternity of self loathing, doubt and bitter disappointments.
One day, a miracle happened, I rediscovered my self, not unlike before, setting out in a new direction, my Muse rediscovering me, gently suggesting that we walk hand in hand once more.
Now, Suddenly from these misty pages, misty with the emotion of saying farewell to my loving Mother of 101 years, I have found you again, or perhaps, were you searching for me on these grass bespangled, slopes of our Drakensberg Mountains... Hello Akif... I am truly Happy... Our Safari is long, can we set off now... I have so much to learn from you.. Kind regards... Keith
I love you!! My mantra these past few days has been ‘’Thank you and I let you go’’. Whenever that hole left behind the departure of a muse makes me look for its shadow, I repeat it and it allows the shadow to carry on and for me to look at a brand new, empty space. <3
“but because i am not used to being inspired by positive things”
Akif with each piece of yours i read my heart wrenches quietly, tender towards your experience, and the very essence of who you are.
forgetting about yourself is beautiful. grief as a muse? you’ve got me pondering on the idea of “where do i go from here?” as grief remains a large part of mine too. but perhaps the purpose is to not ask where am “i” am going from here and just go. to forgive my thoughts of self and trust Allah (swt) to take care of my affairs.
you are far too wonderful to be anchored in grief. it will always be a part of the human experience but i am excited to see the shift of your muse and the way your life in writing will unfold. May Allah (swt) continue to bless you and bring you more random Tuesdays where life finds you instead of you finding life Akif
Jeri thank you so much, wow. Perhaps that’s why we get along the way we do. Indeed life beyond the muse isn’t quite so bad, if at all. What was confronting to me was realizing how much of an inspiration I tend to draw from the negative. In part, this makes sense. I think its immoral to live in a time as precarious as this and not make way to address that elephant in the room, however on a personal note, it has become imperative to develop a worldview that is strung with hope. Thank you for being here. <3
Beautiful. As I’ve been in a meditative practice it’s be clearer to me that “mindfulness” is actually closer to “mindlessness”. Feeling like all the questions people ask about how to present and how to heal is taking away from the experience of actually being in the moment. Wonderful piece.
Wow, "mindfulness is actually closer to mindlessness" is everything. You hit the nail on the head. Thank you for being here and sharing your thoughts with me. It means the world.
An exquisite reflection breathing with the quiet wisdom of someone who has found peace, and also learned to inhabit it. I like your final observation: the tension between contentment and creativity. That curious, silent fear that joy might dull the blade of inspiration — what Auden once called “the fever of passion, the lover’s rage / for the beautiful not yet attained.” We are trained, artistically and culturally, to worship the muse of ache, to believe suffering is the crucible of truth. But perhaps that’s just a narrative convenience, a romanticism pretending to be realism.
I wonder if joy, especially of the subtle, grounded kind you describe, isn’t a more difficult muse, not less fertile, but less theatrical. Grief demands to be written. Contentment asks to be lived. And yet, I think of writers like Annie Dillard or Loren Eiseley, who drew entire worlds from a morning beam of sunlight or a ripple in a stream. Or of Rilke, who wrote that “everything is gestation and then bringing forth.” Maybe this is your gestation. The water isn’t gone, it’s simply running quieter, underground.
What if inspiration isn’t a fire to be lit by friction, but a stillness to be undisturbed? What if the creative act in seasons of peace is about becoming porous to meaning the Tao you referenced? The art of presence, then, may not lie in forgetting the self, but in no longer trying to control it…
Keep digging, Akif! Still wells sometimes reveal the clearest water.
"Grief demands to be written. Contentment asks to be lived.". I couldn't have ever said it better myself. How wonderful to be so understood by someone that they can condense your thoughts into a single sentence. I resonate deeply with your understanding, and I'm more thankful than you could know for your participation in my thought processes. As stated before, I tend to write from a place of "not" having the answers, and such interactions are indispensable for me. Thank you for being who you are.
Grief sharpens our language, while contentment softens it into silence. One bleeds into prose; the other disappears into presence. And yet, both crave witness. So if anything I wrote mirrored what you were already circling in your mind… then maybe that’s the magic of resonance: two people arriving at the same unnamed place, one with a pen, the other with recognition. And the other way around sometimes.
Your way of writing from the space of not knowing is exactly what gives it life. Answers are rigid. But questions (especially honest, aching ones) have a way of bending time, of pulling others into your orbit. I’m glad to be part of that gravitational field, Akif!
For so many years, I have seemingly been searching for my Muse, whom I met almost by accident when commencing my midlife journeys to far flung corners of our World, and my mind.
There, amongst the shadows of an Eden longed for since childhood, my muse revealed herself amongst those shadowy recesses, bespangled by iridescent light, and we became one.
For years on my journeys, inward and outward, this memory of her, in that moment of recognition, accompanied my Soul.
Until one day, I found myself prostrate with grief, anxiety, remorse anger and pain.
I came at last to the very end of that journey, how fondly remembered, with a certainty, that I would never return... This state continued for a personal eternity of self loathing, doubt and bitter disappointments.
One day, a miracle happened, I rediscovered my self, not unlike before, setting out in a new direction, my Muse rediscovering me, gently suggesting that we walk hand in hand once more.
Now, Suddenly from these misty pages, misty with the emotion of saying farewell to my loving Mother of 101 years, I have found you again, or perhaps, were you searching for me on these grass bespangled, slopes of our Drakensberg Mountains... Hello Akif... I am truly Happy... Our Safari is long, can we set off now... I have so much to learn from you.. Kind regards... Keith
I love you!! My mantra these past few days has been ‘’Thank you and I let you go’’. Whenever that hole left behind the departure of a muse makes me look for its shadow, I repeat it and it allows the shadow to carry on and for me to look at a brand new, empty space. <3
I love you more! I needed to hear this too.
One must lose their worldly Identify in order to find their true Identity.
Souls live beneath invisible masks.
“but because i am not used to being inspired by positive things”
Akif with each piece of yours i read my heart wrenches quietly, tender towards your experience, and the very essence of who you are.
forgetting about yourself is beautiful. grief as a muse? you’ve got me pondering on the idea of “where do i go from here?” as grief remains a large part of mine too. but perhaps the purpose is to not ask where am “i” am going from here and just go. to forgive my thoughts of self and trust Allah (swt) to take care of my affairs.
you are far too wonderful to be anchored in grief. it will always be a part of the human experience but i am excited to see the shift of your muse and the way your life in writing will unfold. May Allah (swt) continue to bless you and bring you more random Tuesdays where life finds you instead of you finding life Akif
Jeri thank you so much, wow. Perhaps that’s why we get along the way we do. Indeed life beyond the muse isn’t quite so bad, if at all. What was confronting to me was realizing how much of an inspiration I tend to draw from the negative. In part, this makes sense. I think its immoral to live in a time as precarious as this and not make way to address that elephant in the room, however on a personal note, it has become imperative to develop a worldview that is strung with hope. Thank you for being here. <3
Hi Ankif. Thanks for the like.
Always an absolute GIFT to hear from you, Akif. What a treasure you are. Thanks for sharing with us 💖
Hannah thank you so much! Lots of love. Thank you for always being here.
Beautiful. As I’ve been in a meditative practice it’s be clearer to me that “mindfulness” is actually closer to “mindlessness”. Feeling like all the questions people ask about how to present and how to heal is taking away from the experience of actually being in the moment. Wonderful piece.
Wow, "mindfulness is actually closer to mindlessness" is everything. You hit the nail on the head. Thank you for being here and sharing your thoughts with me. It means the world.