🕊️ Begin from the Then, Not the Now

 

🕊️ Begin from the Then, Not the Now

I once told a cleric:
“We should not begin (teaching) from the now — but from the then.
From the ideal. From what we should be.”  
Because when we begin from the vision —
from the light of zuhur, from the purified truth,
from Zaynab (AS) on the minbar, not hidden behind it —
we don't shrink to fit the ruins (we are motivated, inspired by the vision we rise out of the now and the sensual walls that enslave and encase us), We rise to build what was always meant to be.

While I was so sure, or hoping that at LEAST a student of Islam, a scholar, would get it...it fell on deaf ears.  This showed me that law has dimmed vision.

Not even a flicker of recognition.  In fact I believe there was a slight snicker.

As though the idea itself was too much —

too disruptive, too alive.

Today, too many leaders teach Islam as damage control,
not as divine ascent.
They regulate the collapse,
instead of reviving the blueprint.

But the Qur’an never began from brokenness.
It began from La ilaha illallah.
From Jannah. From justice.
From the perfected human being —
and called us to rise.

Those who fear the light will always try to dim it.
But those with ears to hear — will hear.
And those with hearts to climb — will rise.
From then — not just now.

Narrow, winding streets paved with stone curve gently beneath Moorish arches. Olive oil lanterns flicker from carved wooden balconies, casting warm light onto stucco walls painted in earth tones. Fountains bubble in shaded courtyards, while the scent of orange blossoms drifts through the air. In the distance, the adhan echoes softly, weaving through a city alive with the hum of scholars, traders, poets, and artisans — a beacon of knowledge and light in medieval Europe.

A CIVILIZATION THAT WAS RAPED BY THE JEALOUS!

Those who had no vision, only envy, 

those who could not create, only destroy

those who could not become  or rise only oppress and suppress.

I have decided:

I will no longer read the books of fallibles or secular minds.
I will begin the Library of the Zuhur.
Not from speculation — but from the clarity of what must return.

Yes, we must read history to know the future —
but only through the lens of divine truth,
not through the fractured mirror of fallible ego.

Let the past be revisited not through their inventions,
but through the Light that never dims.

I no longer trust any fallible words
and will no longer pollute my mind with misguided secular “imagination.”
To prepare for the Zuhur, the mind must be cleansed,
the heart guarded, and the library rebuilt
— not with fiction, but with truth.

A muddy, dim street in 9th-century England. Thatched huts lean under grey skies, sewage trickles through the path, and cloaked figures move silently in the cold. No lamps, no books, no schools — only smoke, filth, and forgotten time. A church bell tolls in a land still asleep.