No title available
wallacepolsom
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
dirt enthusiast
AnasAbdin
tumblr dot com
⁂
One Nice Bug Per Day
almost home
Origami Around
oozey mess
Three Goblin Art
sheepfilms
hello vonnie
occasionally subtle
No title available
Sade Olutola
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available
No title available
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malta
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@saazehaal
Peace be upon you, O Aba-`Abdullah,
Peace of Allah be upon you from me forever as long as I am existent and as long as there is day and night,
May Allah not cause this (visit) to be the last of my visit to you (all).
- Ziyarat Ashura
We are sinners // but because of your mercy, we keep the lamp of hope ignited in our hearts.
- Abdul Haq Tamanna Siddiqui
If we knew what love [did to us], we’d never love anyone / We’d rather bury our heart and its desire deep into the earth.
— Mir Taqi Mir
يس كل شيء في القلب يقال، لذلك خلق الله التنهيدة، الدموع، النوم الطويل، الإبتسامة الباردة ورجف اليدين.
Not everything in the heart can be said, so God created sigh, tears, long sleep, cold smile and shivering of hands.
- Nizar Qabbani
The universe is a kaleidoscope: now hopelessness, now hope now spring, now fall. Forget it's ups and downs: Do not vex your self: The remedy for pain is the pain itself. - Sarmad, the naked Sufi
The universe is a kaleidoscope: now hopelessness, now hope now spring, now fall. Forget it's ups and downs: Do not vex your self: The remedy for pain is the pain itself. - Sarmad, the naked Sufi
To every heart, true love. To every struggle, Karbala.
Karbala- the endless take of grief.
هزار بار ديگرم سر شكوفه كردن است “I have yet to bloom a thousand times more…
Qahar Aasi (via gqandw)
اول ځان پسې جهان First take care of yourself, then of the world.
Pashto proverb (via honeyandelixir)
Souls resemble other souls, and those that resemble each other are in harmony, that is why people are attracted towards those they resemble.
Imam Ali (as) - Bihar al Anwar, v.78, p. 92, no. 100 (via arabarabarab)
Shi’ism is a festive gathering, a festival, a feast, a constellation of moral manners, a commitment, a conviction, a mobile memory—the centerpiece of it the iconic unsheathing of a dagger, for real, for sure, always half- drawn from its worn- out sheath. Always ready to change its own metaphors, Shi’ism is also a raised lantern of hope in desperation, a green flag, a red marker of martyrdom, sac ri fice, renewal, resurrection. Shi’ism is the shimmering memory of an event, a dream, a single traumatic incident, condemned forever to try to remember itself: in vain. Shi’ism is the doomed damnation of thinking one has seen and had a vision and then trying for a lifetime, a his tory, the span of a cosmic universe to remember it, to realize it—all in futility. Shi’ism is the Islamic version of the myth of Sisyphus—condemned to roll the fiction of its own reality up the hill, against the grain of his tory, then watch it hopelessly roll down to the ground zero of its cyclical desperation for salvation. Shi’ism is crimson in color for its ritual remembrance of the cold- blooded murder of the Prophet’s grandson, Hossein ibn Ali; green in its memory of the providential assurances that all will one day be well, the mayhem of the world be damned; white, full of blank determination to wear the shroud of shahadat [to bear witness with your life] just before descending to death—into nullity, nonentity, just before rising up again to be a witness, to bear witness (again), thus to account for who and what you were, we are, we ought to be, for what we did right, what we did wrong, whether we were righ teous or not.
Shi’ism is a blind faith, a reasoned reassurance, a moral mandate, an intellectual tapestry, a way of (not) resting your case with his tory, the world; it is the meaningful magic that holds your passing days together, your whispering nights full of saintly silences and replete with suggestive gestures of revolt.
Shi’ism is a religion of mothers’ hopes, bloodied by fathers’ vengeance, paid for by sons and daughters of a meaningful death. Shi’ism speaks Persian, prays in Arabic, whispers in Urdu, sings in Turkish, plays in mimetic remembrances of things past—perpetually à la recherche du temps perdu.
Shi’ism is a religion of protest, born and bred on the backbone of a combative history—a history gone (for Shi’is) awry. A prophet is born, a messenger is sent, the messenger comes and the messenger goes, the divinity reveals itself, a community is dutifully formed, a faith is declared triumphant, and a belief (a doctrine) takes shape that does not want to let go of the charismatic memory, the ecstatic moment, the embracing persona of the Prophet—so it invests it in another man, a good man, a blessed man, a divinely ordained man to lead His community. But history does not concur, the community does not follow, the majority (the minority thinks) errs. Shi’ism, in believing that Ali ibn Abi Talib should have succeeded Prophet Muhammad ibn Abdullah, takes what has happened in his tory as the erring side of reality. “The time” for the Shi’is is thus always “out of joint.” And cursed spite that ever they were “born to set it right.” Shi’ism is a poem, an elegy, a eulogy, an epic, a panegyric pausing for a moment for his tory to recollect itself and start anew. Shi’ism is Karbala..
Fuck it. Let it all collapse.
J.T. Barnett (via jtbarnett)
شادي كوچکی می خواهم آن قدر کوچک که کسی نخواهد از من بگیرد I want small joys So small that No one would want to take it away from me
ناظم حکمت (via honeyandelixir)
On civilian deaths, Kenya should first be asked why they bombed innocent Somali civilians in refugee camps, why they bombed innocent people in Gedo and Jubba regions. If they don’t withdraw, attacks like this will become common in Kenya.
– Al-Shabaab spokesperson, Al-Jazeera, September 22, 2013
we will not hashtag our grief
our grief may not be branded for profit
an eight-year old is an eight-year old is an eight-year old Wagalla is Waziristan is Westgate
a pregnant woman is a pregnant woman is a pregnant woman Garissa is Kismayo is Nairobi
blood is blood is blood is blood is blood the stupid, the venal, the cruel inherit the earth
we withhold our grief from the merchants of death
our grief will not be harnessed to engines of war
take everything else this is ours
our grief is not open for business Shailja Patel, “BLOWBACK” via The New Inquiry
[ENG Subtitles] - Hamid Alimi - Take me to Karbala
I love you.
