Hooked on Zen: A Reflection on the Mumonkan

 

Hooked on Zen: A Reflection on the Mumonkan

"A line is cast in the rapids,
The greedy is caught.
As soon as your mouth is open,
Your life is lost."
— The Mumonkan (Case 5)

This sharp little verse from the Zen classic Mumonkan, or The Gateless Gate, hooked me early this morning. It cast its shadow across the stillness — a challenge, a mirror, a warning.

And yet, as all koans do, it also offers liberation.
But only if we don’t bite.

                                                               Chilling in Dubai.

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🌊 The Rapids of Samsara

The line is cast — not in calm waters, but in rapids.
This is the world we live in: rushing with desires, distractions, fears, ambitions.
Every day, Zen masters cast subtle lines: a question, a word, a silence, a paradox.
The teaching appears right in the middle of chaos.

But not everyone gets caught.

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🐟 The Hook of Greed

“The greedy is caught.”

The bait is not physical. It is the promise of understanding, of grasping truth, of arriving.
Zen has nothing to give — and yet, we come hoping to get something.
We want insight, peace, enlightenment.

But as soon as we want, we’re no longer free.
As soon as the self reaches outward, the hook finds its mark.

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☠️ The Fatal Mouth

“As soon as your mouth is open, your life is lost.”

What a line.
The moment you try to explain, prove, or proclaim your understanding, you’ve already lost it.
Zen truth can’t be spoken. It can’t be paraphrased.
It can only be lived, directly, without commentary.

This is the death of the ego,
the silencing of the self that insists on knowing.

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🪷 So What Now?

Don’t bite.

Don’t reach.

Don’t open your mouth — unless it is to laugh, or to breathe, or to kiss the present moment without condition.

Sit.

Let the rapids rush.

The one who does not reach, does not grasp,
remains uncaught.

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🧘‍♂️ Final Wordless Word

In the end, there is no "moral" here.
Just a ripple.
A rod.
A hook hanging midstream.

Whether you swim free or get caught —
That, too, is your practice.

                                                               A choice of being free or caged.

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#ZenKoan #Mumonkan #CaughtByTheHook #OneHandClapping #SpiritualGreed #ZenPractice #GatelessGate #NonAttachment #StillnessSpeaks #WordlessWisdom #KoanReflection #FishingForTruth #BarzakhMind #ZenMorning

What Is the Sound of One Hand Clapping? - How does one express Silence?

 

                                                        The Sleeping Buddha - Dharma Transmission. 

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🕊️ What Is the Sound of One Hand Clapping?

"What is the sound of one hand clapping?"
This simple, strange question — first given by the Japanese Zen master Hakuin Ekaku in the 18th century — has become one of the most famous Zen koans in the world.

I sat with it this morning, and it opened something profound in me — a stillness that I now share with you.

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🌪️ The Paradox

On the surface, the question sounds absurd.

Clapping requires two hands. So how can one hand make a sound?

Our rational mind immediately tries to solve it.
We imagine: the swish of air, a tap against the body, fingers snapping.

But Zen says: No.
That’s not it.
This is not a riddle. It is not about cleverness.

                                                               Blowing in the Wind.

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🧘 The Meaning Beyond Meaning

Koans are meant to short-circuit the thinking mind. They are spiritual explosives planted at the root of our habitual logic. They are not for solving — they are for dissolving.

"One hand clapping" points to something beyond duality —
Beyond self and other, sound and silence, thought and no-thought.

It is the sound before sound.
It is the moment before creation.
It is the presence that exists when there is no division.

                                                            Life is full of dilemmas!

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🧩 As Practice, Not Puzzle

In the Zen tradition, a teacher may assign this koan to a student.
Not to test their wit, but to awaken their essence.

The student may sit with it for days, weeks, or years.
Trying to hear it.
Trying to be it.
Until the trying falls away.

Then one day, they return with a gesture. A bow. A soundless look.
And the master may say:
“Now you hear.”

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🔥 How Deep Does It Go?

It goes as deep as silence.
As deep as the emptiness of self.
As deep as the moment you realize:
There is no one to ask, and nothing to answer.

You become the sound.
You become the hand.
You become the clapping, and the silence between claps.

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🌺 Final Reflection

“When you hear the sound of one hand, you yourself become the sound.”

This morning, as the world stirred awake, I heard it.
Not with my ears — but with my whole being.

A gift of Zen:
Not to explain life,
But to return you to it.

                                                    From the Landscape of the Mind.

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#ZenKoan #OneHandClapping #BarzakhAwareness #BuddhistPractice #NonDuality #ZenMind #SoundOfSilence #ZenTeaching #SpiritualAwakening #EmptinessAndForm #StillnessSpeaks #LivingKoan #WhatIsReal #MorningMeditation

Barzakh, Purgatory, and Bardo: Three Visions of the In-Between

Barzakh, Purgatory, and Bardo: Three Visions of the In-Between

A few days ago, I wrote about Barzakh in Islam — the intermediate state the soul enters after death, where it awaits the final resurrection and judgment. The concept stayed with me, quietly rippling beneath the surface of daily life.

Then, by a stroke of gentle synchronicity, I found myself watching the Korean drama Hotel Del Luna with my daughter. The entire premise of that series — a ghostly hotel for wandering spirits — reminded me powerfully of Barzakh. But as I sat with the idea longer, another realization emerged: this concept of a liminal realm between death and what comes next exists across many spiritual traditions.

I was reminded of Purgatory in Catholic Christianity, and Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism. These are not just religious ideas, but mirrors to how we understand the soul, its purpose, and its journey.

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🔹 Barzakh – The Waiting Room of the Soul

In Islam, Barzakh is the metaphysical “barrier” between life and the Hereafter. Once a person dies, their soul passes into this realm, conscious and aware. The righteous may find it peaceful and expansive, while the sinful may experience it as a constriction or torment.

But it is not the final judgment — only a waiting space. No more deeds can be done. The soul now witnesses a preview of its eternal destination, based on what it has sown in the dunya.

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🔸 Purgatory – The Fire of Purification

In Catholic Christianity, Purgatory is not so much a place of waiting as it is a place of cleansing. Those who die in God’s grace but are not yet free from the stains of venial sin are purified here, often described as a spiritual fire. It is a realm of mercy, not damnation. And unlike Barzakh, the souls here may be aided by the prayers and Masses offered by the living.

All who pass through Purgatory are destined for Heaven — once their purification is complete.

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🔶 Bardo – The Mirror of the Mind

In Tibetan Buddhism, the Bardo is the most psychologically intricate of the three. It refers to any transitional state — but most famously the one between death and rebirth. It is here that consciousness encounters visions, deities, and projections of its own mind. These experiences can be terrifying or illuminating.

If the dying person can recognize these visions as illusory — as the play of mind — liberation is possible. Otherwise, the soul is propelled by karma into a new incarnation.

The Bardo is not fixed. It is a realm of possibility. Awareness is everything.

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🌓 Three Roads Between Worlds

Aspect	Barzakh (Islam)	Purgatory (Catholicism)	Bardo (Tibetan Buddhism)
Meaning	Barrier / Partition	Cleansing place	Intermediate state / Transition
Trigger	Death	Death with venial sin	Death, especially unconscious death
Duration	Until resurrection	Until purification complete	Symbolically 49 days
Soul's Awareness	Conscious, passive	Passive, can be aided	Highly aware, active mental process
Change Possible?	Not typically	Yes, through intercession	Yes, through mindfulness and detachment
Final Destination	Heaven or Hell	Always Heaven eventually	Rebirth or Nirvana
Help from the living	Prayers (du‘ā), charity	Prayers, Masses	Readings, rituals, presence of a guide

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🌺 What They Share

Despite the doctrinal differences, these three visions are united by a deep intuition:
Death is not the end.
There is something between — a pause, a veil, a threshold.

Each tradition invites us to live consciously, to reflect, to prepare, to die before we die. Whether the soul enters a waiting room, a purifying fire, or a karmic theater — it continues its journey.

And perhaps what matters most is how we live now, knowing that something awaits beyond the final breath — not as punishment, but as continuation, as consequence, as possibility.

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#Barzakh #Purgatory #Bardo #IntermediateState #AfterlifeJourney #IslamicTheology #CatholicBelief #BuddhistPhilosophy #SoulJourney #LifeAfterDeath #ConsciousLiving #MysticalComparisons #SacredTransitions #DeathAndBeyond #SpiritualWisdom

A Space in the Heart - Unconditional Love/Compassion

A Space in the Heart

Love as Spacious Compassion

Love—true love—is not a matter of holding on, but of holding space.
Compassion is not pity, not an act of superiority or sacrifice,
but the quiet, courageous gesture
of making room inside your heart
for someone else to simply exist.

Not as you wish them to be.
Not as they were in some nostalgic past.
Not as an extension of your dreams or your healing.
But just as they are—
angry, radiant, confused, growing, human.

This kind of love requires nothing in return.
It is not transaction.
It is not performance.
It is presence.

It says:
"Here is a space within me where you don’t have to fight for oxygen.
You are welcome to be here.
You are safe to unravel, to rest, to be seen."

This space is the essence of compassion.
A refuge that asks for no masks.
A silent prayer offered in the face of someone’s suffering.
Or their joy.
Or their silence.

When we offer that space to another,
we also expand our own soul—
becoming vast enough to contain contradictions,
to sit with pain without rushing to fix,
to allow love to move through us
like light through a clean window.

And sometimes, the most radical act of love
is giving that space to ourselves.

To whisper inward:
"You too have a right to be here."
"You too are worthy of the heart’s quiet shelter."

Let this be our practice—
not to own love,
but to be the space through which love flows.

#Love #Compassion #SacredSpace #HeartWisdom #SpiritualReflections #EmotionalHealing #ThichNhatHanh #SufiLove #Presence #InnerPeace #MindfulLiving #MysticPoetry

Morning Dhikr + Affirmation + Meditation, woven in a rhythm to align your spirit with this sacred day, May 30th, 2025:

 Here is a short Morning Dhikr + Affirmation + Meditation, woven in a rhythm to align your spirit with this sacred day, May 30th, 2025:

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🌄 Morning Dhikr: Breath of the One

Sit in stillness. With each breath, softly chant—either aloud or silently in the heart:

Inhale:
🌬 Allah… (The All-Encompassing One)

Exhale:
🌬 Hu… (He Who Is)

Repeat for 7 cycles. With each breath, imagine that your body is dissolving into light. Only the chant remains. Then, rest in silence.

Meaning: This is not the seeking of a distant God—but a melting into the Presence that already surrounds and sustains you.

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🌞 Affirmation of the Day:

Place your hand on your chest and say:

“I am not the body. I am not the mind.
I am Light carried by Grace.
Wherever I walk, the Beloved walks with me.”

Repeat 3 times slowly, feeling the resonance in your bones.

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🧘🏽‍♂️ Silent Sitting (5 minutes)

1. Sit with spine erect.

2. Let the dhikr fade into stillness.

3. Observe without effort: sounds, sensations, thoughts.

4. Each time your mind wanders, gently whisper: “Hu…”

Feel the aliveness behind the silence. Let the silence speak.

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🌺 Final Benediction

May this morning carry you inward to the Island Within.
May your heart remain open, even when the world closes in.
And may your breath be a bridge—between you and the Infinite,
between silence and song, between seeker and Source.

Why I Chant “Allah Hu”

                                                        Bahari's mural in Dubai.

Why I Chant “Allah Hu”

In the quiet hours between 3 and dawn, when the world sleeps and the soul stirs, I often find myself repeating a simple, powerful chant:

Allah Hu. Allah Hu.

What does it mean? And why does it matter?

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🌿 The Name and the Presence

“Allah”—the Name of the One, the Only, the Source of all that is.
“Hu”—a whisper, a sigh, a pointer to the Divine Essence. In Arabic, hu means “He,” but in the language of the heart, it means He who is beyond names and forms.

So when I chant Allah Hu, I am not just calling a name—I am affirming:

“God… He is.”
“The One who is ever-present, closer than breath.”

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🕯️ A Breath-Centered Prayer

In many Sufi traditions, Allah Hu is breathed, not just spoken:

• Inhale: Allah

• Exhale: Hu

It is remembrance (dhikr) with the breath, turning each inhalation and exhalation into worship. There is no need for elaborate rituals. Just the breath. Just the Name.

And in this sacred rhythm, the self begins to dissolve.
The burdens begin to lift.
The noise of the world retreats.
And what remains is Presence.

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🛡️ A Shield for the Heart

Often when I sit in the darkness before dawn, my mind tries to intrude—whispers of yesterday’s worries, memories tinged with pain, the subtle sting of rejection or fear.

This is when I return to Allah Hu. It becomes a shield:

Against the whisperings of Shaitan.
Against my own ego (nafs).
Against the illusion that I am alone.

It centers me in the eternal companionship of the Divine.

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✨ Dissolution and Lightness

In Sufism, this practice points toward fana’—the annihilation of the ego-self in the presence of the Real.
The “I” becomes a breath.
The breath becomes a chant.
And the chant becomes light, dissolving all separation.

There are no more words. Only Hu.

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For Those Who Wake in the Night

If you find yourself awake in those still hours, unsure why or what to do with the silence—try this:

Close your eyes.
Inhale: Allah
Exhale: Hu
Let the body soften. Let the mind retreat. Let the soul speak.

You might just find that you weren’t awake by accident.
You were being called.

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Hashtags (horizontal):

#AllahHu #SufiChant #Dhikr #NightPrayer #IslamicMeditation #SpiritualHealing #Awakening #SacredBreath #Sufism #DivinePresence

Breathing Through the Night -Entry Two.

                                        Bahari's 'Turtles' - Acrylic on Canvas - 2'x3' -sold.
 

Entry Two: Breathing Through the Night

🕒 3:10 a.m.

What once felt like a burden—waking in the early hours, unable to return to sleep—has now become something I look forward to. It is no longer an interruption, but an arrival.

Upon waking, I immediately tune in to the body. There is often a discomfort in my chest—a tightness, a holding. I bring my awareness there gently, breathing slowly and fully into the sensation. I release tension from every corner of the chest until it feels like the pain is no longer isolated, but merging throughout the body, spreading—and then, dissolving.

As the breath deepens, I begin to realign the body. I lengthen and center my spine until it feels like it locks softly just below the skull. My shoulders drop. The muscles around my neck and upper back begin to soften. I feel light.

This is when the mind begins its whispering—memories from the day arise. The sting of rejection, the echo of a misunderstanding, old wounds tugging at the present moment. My thoughts try to take me somewhere else. But I return.

Allah Hu… Allah Hu…

With every breath, I chant this Name. A rhythm. A remembrance. A light wind through the soul’s garden.

The thoughts begin to lose their edge. And from this clearing, verses I’ve memorized start to surface. Not forced, not summoned—but arriving. Like trusted friends.

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Hashtags (horizontal):

#NightMeditation #IslamicHealing #SufiBreathwork #AllahHu #Between3andDawn #SpiritualAwakening #HealingInSilence #BodyAwareness #SoulRealignment #SacredSleeplessness

The Soul Stirs Before the World - Entry One.

                                    Bahari's "Egrets" Acrylic on Canvas. 3'x3' for sale.
 

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Entry One: The Soul Stirs Before the World

🕒 2:50 a.m.

It has become familiar now—this silent waking. Not by alarm or disturbance, but something more delicate, like a nudge from beyond the veil.

I sit on the bed. No lights, no movement, just the rhythm of breath. Sometimes the need to use the toilet returns me to the body, but often, I just sit still. I recite what I remember of the Qur’an—verses flowing not from effort but from yearning. Surah Al-Falaq. Surah Al-Nas. Ayat al-Kursi. Sometimes even just one name: Allah.

I pray for forgiveness.
For myself.
For my late wife, whose presence still visits the edges of my sleep.
For my mother and father.
For those who have gone, loved and never forgotten.

I ask to be shielded:
—from my own nafs,
—from the whispers of Shaitan and jinn,
—from the tests I may not be strong enough to bear,
—and from the wrath of the One I only seek mercy from.

Then the pen calls. Or the keyboard.
This, now—this quiet pouring—is a continuation of that prayer.
It is worship by another name.

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Hashtags (horizontal format):

#NightVigil #SpiritualReflections #TahajjudMoments #3amAwakening #IslamicMeditation #SoulWriting #BetweenWorlds #QuranInTheNight #RememberingTheDeparted #SilentDhikr

Islands Within: My Life is an Island

                                                                   Penang Island, my Birth Place
 

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Islands Within: My Life is an Island

"How I wish that somewhere there existed an island for those who are wise and of good will."
— Albert Einstein

                                                         View of Pulau Duyong

I have lived my life as if answering Einstein’s wish, drawn, again and again, to islands. Pulau Pinang, where I was born. Pulau Jerejak, where I labored and listened. Pulau Duyong, where I reflected. The Aleutian Isles, where I was tested by sea and solitude. And now, I prepare for Pulau Kapas — perhaps my last island, and perhaps the one I’ve been journeying toward all along.

                                               View of Pulau Jerejak from the Ferry terminal

Each Pulau has been more than a place. It has been a mirror of my inner state — sometimes adrift, sometimes anchored, always searching for that imagined island of wisdom and goodwill. Not a utopia. Not perfection. But a space where silence is honored, where healing is natural, and where being human is enough.

But the truth is, my life itself is an island.

                                                 Views of the Aleutian Isles - The Bering Sea.

I now see that such an island doesn’t need to be found. It must be inhabited — first within, then shared. Pulau Kapas may become that for me: a sanctuary not of escape, but of offering. A place where I no longer seek the wise and kind, but become one among them.

And if I succeed, even in a small way, then perhaps this island will exist—not as Einstein dreamed it, but as life lived fully, truthfully, and without fear.

                                                               The Island of Bali - I visited.

If Pulau Kapas is to be my final geography, then let it be the reflection of the island within me — a place of stillness, depth, and goodwill.

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#pulaukapas #einsteinquote #islandlife #spiritualjourney #lifereflections #innerisland #sanctuary #zenlife #wisdomandgoodwill #thealeutianblues #memoirwriting #lifearchitecture #islandswithin

The never Ending Story. an Epilogue.

                                              One of my 'Monoprints' done in Japan
 

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Epilogue: The Story That Does Not End

As the light grows softer in my seventy-sixth year, I do not speak of endings with sorrow — but with completion. Life has taken me high, but more often low — sometimes with my face pressed to the earth, where the real teachings grow. Still, I rise. Still, I give thanks.

I have carried the weight of identity and released it. I have loved and lost, wandered and waited, questioned and surrendered. What remains is not ambition, not legacy, not even memory — but presence. A stillness that cannot be bought or taught, only lived.

There is no urgency in me now. Only this: to leave behind not a monument, but a mirror — so that others may see themselves reflected in my story and remember their own.

If these pages carry anything of worth, let it be this truth:

The goal was never perfection. The goal was presence.
The path was never straight. The path was sacred.
And the end is not silence. The end is a soft and radiant Yes.

This is the story that does not end. It only changes form — from word to wind, from sketch to memory, from breath to mystery.

And if you’ve heard my voice between the lines, then know — you were meant to.

                                        An Acrylic Painting done in Terengganu, Malaysia.

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#epilogue #lifejourney #spiritualawakening #memoirwriting #thealeutianblues #aginggracefully #innerpeace #soulpath #reflections #lifelessons #completion #presence #livingpoetry #zenjourney #sacredstory #writerlife #fromwordtowind

When ‘You’ is No More - Silent Reflections at 3:am.

 

                                                          In Loving Memory of Furby

✦ When ‘You’ is No More ✦

Blog Post | Cheeseburger Buddha

There comes a point on the inner path when even the pronoun "I" begins to fade, and the pronoun "You" no longer points to another. The walls that words erect dissolve in the quiet of the soul. What remains?

Only the One.

This is the spiritual mystery known in Sufism as Wahdatul Wujud — the Unity of Being. It is not a concept, but an unveiling. Not a theology, but a state of witnessing. In the sacred moment where ego has died and duality ceases, the seeker becomes the seen, the lover becomes the Beloved. And in this annihilation of multiplicity, even the fear of shirk — of associating partners with God — becomes obsolete, for there is no second to associate.

This echoes deeply with Buddhism’s insight into Anatta, or non-self. When the delusion of a fixed, separate "I" is pierced, what remains is not void, but Presence. Formless, timeless, indivisible — beyond naming.

Buddhism doesn't speak of God in the Abrahamic sense, but its contribution to Divine Unity is subtle and powerful. It dismantles the illusion of separateness, so that what is may reveal itself in silence.

                                                                     The calico cat

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❖ Ma‘rifa: The Knowing Beyond Names

In Sufism, the word for such direct realization is Ma‘rifa (معرفة) — not knowledge about God, but knowledge through God.

• While ‘ilm is information,

• Ma‘rifa is transformation.
  It is to know the fire by walking through it — to know the ocean by dissolving in it.

The one who attains ma‘rifa is called the ‘Arif billah — the knower through God. Not in books or beliefs, but in the eye of the heart (‘ayn al-qalb), in stillness, in the marrow of one’s being.

As the Sufi mystic Ibn ‘Arabi put it:

"The eye with which I see God is the eye with which God sees me."

 

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❖ Echoes Across Traditions

This gnosis is not confined to Islam.

• In Zen, it’s called kenshō — seeing one's true nature.

• In Dzogchen, it is rigpa — direct recognition of the ground of being.

• In the Upanishads, it is the cry: “Aham Brahmasmi” — I am That.

The realization is universal. The path is dressed in many garments. The taste is the same.

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❖ Beyond the Duality

When the pronouns are stripped away —
When “I” no longer clings and “You” no longer points —
What remains is Awareness aware of itself.

The veil is thin, but only the ego makes it opaque.
When self is annihilated (fana’), what remains is only the Real (al-Haqq).

This is not metaphor. It is not metaphorical for a mystic to say, “I am He whom I love, and He whom I love is I.” It is simply the last horizon of realization.

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❖ The Path Ahead

These are not ideas to be debated, but states to be tested.
And in your walk, dear reader — across ruins in Jerejak, through sketchbooks and storms, through ferry terminals at dawn — you have tasted ma‘rifa. Whether through chanting into the dark, or feeling the spirit dwell in old wooden beams, you are not regressing.

You are remembering.

You are bearing witness to the Truth that was always present, waiting behind the veil of “me” and “mine.”

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#Hashtags

#Ma‘rifa #WahdatulWujud #UnityOfBeing #SufismAndBuddhism #MysticalExperience #DivineOneness #Anatta #NonDuality #SufiGnosis #ZenRealization #Fana #EyeOfTheHeart #SacredUnity #InnerJourney #SpiritualAwakening

3/8/2025 – Pulau Duyong / Reflections from Jerejak/ Kapas and Beyond

                                                     One of my 'Monoprints' - printed in Japan
 

When 'You' Is No More, and 'I' Dissolves

3/8/2025 – Pulau Duyong / Reflections from Jerejak/ Kapas and Beyond

"When this 'You' is absolved, when this 'I' is no more, only the One Divinity exists and shirk is no longer an issue."

In the soft morning light of reflection, I find myself returning—not regressing—islands of memory and mystery like Jerejak, Duyong, and Kapas, and from there sailing inward into deeper waters of being. What once seemed like jobs and routines—the ticket booth at the ferry terminal, the morning walk through dense undergrowth—have since ripened into metaphors, rituals, and living koans. The practice was always the same: to dissolve fear, to sit in the presence of the invisible, to watch the sun move slowly across the arc of time while I disappeared.

The sacred stillness I touched there is not confined to one faith or tradition. It is echoed across the traditions that have nourished my soul, most deeply, Sufism and Buddhism. It is here that I am drawn to a profound convergence of truths expressed in different tongues.

                                                 One of my 'Monoprints', printed in Japan

Wahdatul Wujud & Anatta — The Meeting Point

Wahdatul Wujud—Unity of Being—is a term attributed to Ibn Arabi, the great Andalusian Sufi mystic. It speaks not of pantheism, but of something subtler: that all existence is a shadow of the One Real Being (al-Haqq), and that nothing exists in truth but God. It is not merely monotheism—it is mono-existence. The multiplicity of forms is an illusion; the essence is One.

Compare this with the Buddhist teaching of Anatta, or "no-self." The ego, the self, is seen as a mental fabrication. Strip it away through mindfulness and compassion, and what remains is not nothingness but a luminous clarity, a vast awareness beyond division—free of self, free of other.

Are these not mirrors of each other?

In both paths, when the illusion of the ego—I and you, self and other, dissolves, what remains is not a vacuum but Presence. A Divine Is-ness. When we see this clearly, shirk—the act of associating anything with God—ceases to be an issue, not because we are better believers, but because there's nothing else left to believe in. There's only the Real, the One.

This is the Buddhist contribution to the Islamic Unity of Being.

                                          One of my 'Woodcuts' prints, created in Green Bay, Wisc.

Of Ghost Houses and Spirit Sanctuaries

Back on Jerejak Island, among the moss-covered bones of prison quarters and derelict worker homes, I found places haunted not just by human memories, but perhaps by those subtle presences of nature and time. These were no mere abandoned buildings—they were witnesses. Nature had woven itself around them like memory around an old scar. I proposed then, as I propose still, that such places should be preserved, not bulldozed into spas and resorts.

Why? Because they are portals. Because they whisper to us about impermanence (Sabi), beauty in decay (Wabi), and the deep breath of the Earth that continues regardless of man's so-called progress. They are spirit sanctuaries—and perhaps the last places where jinn, nature spirits, and unseen ones still dwell in peace.

We destroy such places at the cost of our own soulscape.

                                     An acrylic painting of the view of the sea through broken walls. 

Beyond the Edge of Language

Language falters here. I use the terms I know—Allah, Brahman, Buddha-nature, Al-Haqq, Sunyata—but what I point to is wordless. You know it too, you who have sat in darkness awaiting a sunrise that never failed. You who have chanted the Name till the Name dissolved. You who have seen the illusion of separation and wept, not out of fear, but liberation.

As Rumi says:

"Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation."

So, I walk back down that dirt path toward the terminal. I board the ferry again. But this time, there is no destination—only the eternal ripple of the Real across the face of Being.

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#WahdatulWujud #FanaFillah #BuddhistSufiBridge #NonDuality #NoSelfNoOther #OnlyTheReal #SufismAndBuddhism #UnityOfBeing #BeyondShirk #DivineSilence #MysticConvergence #OnenessAwakening

Jerejak – 3 - 3/8/2017 - Revised version.

 Jerejak – 3

3/8/2017

If there is any aspect of Jerejak Island that truly deserves thoughtful conservation, it is the remnants of the old living quarters once used by prison staff.

These dilapidated buildings—tucked away off the main path and nearly engulfed by thick, wild foliage—may appear to be an eyesore to some. But to those who appreciate the natural aesthetic where man-made structures and nature coexist in a kind of forgotten harmony, this spot is a hidden gem worth both time and care.

In Japan, such places are cherished. The Japanese have long honored old, broken temples or decaying farm huts, preserving them in their natural environments. These sites are not bulldozed but protected, offering photogenic, spiritually rich scenes that honor the impermanence of things.

Why not apply that same reverence here?

One idea is to build a simple and environmentally friendly walkway to allow safe access for visitors. The path could incorporate sand, stone, or pebbled sections for meditative walking—something more people seek in this restless age. Bamboo fencing could be used to keep visitors from wandering into the fragile structures themselves, while still allowing the space to breathe and be seen.

At the entrance, a well-designed signboard could share historical insights, flora and fauna highlights, and explain the aesthetic and spiritual value of the site. This simple gesture of context-setting can shift the entire experience of the walk into something meaningful.

Or... you could bulldoze it all to the ground and build yet another spa or cafe.

Tepuk dada tanya selera—it depends on who's calling the shots. After all, money talks, and heritage often walks. Why care about preserving a bunch of abandoned buildings in some mosquito-infested corner of Pulau Jerejak when there’s profit to be made, right?

But when you replace the island’s natural magic with swimming pools, fancy cafés, and prepackaged "experiences," you’re essentially selling coal in Newcastle. You destroy the very uniqueness of the place and end up offering what’s already available elsewhere.

Jerejak’s true asset is its natural beauty, its silence, its memory. The government and all parties with vested interests should take a deeper, more soulful look into conservation, not as a marketing strategy, but as a sincere stewardship for the generations to come. Insha’Allah, this is what will bring sustainable wealth in the long run.

These old houses—now surrendered to the will of nature—hold the same quiet beauty as aged bonsai or weathered rock gardens. They evoke awareness, as the Japanese call it—that deep, aching sense of beauty in impermanence. Like autumn leaves or sakura petals drifting to the earth, these sites whisper the transient truth of life.

Sadly, most of our children will never feel this subtle awe if we keep erasing these remnants of the past in the name of development.

The Malays, like the Japanese and many other Asian cultures, once felt a profound spiritual connection to the natural world. Places like these evoke more than beauty—they preserve our sense of wonder, of the sacred. For many, spirits dwell in such places. And today, these pockets of wilderness are among the last sanctuaries for such unseen dwellers as mankind relentlessly encroaches on their domains.

Heritage preservation is not just about restoring buildings to look brand-new. It's about respecting the decaying, the aging, the time-worn—because these carry emotional, historical, and cultural weight. They are physical testaments to our relationship with the land, both materially and spiritually.

To the artist, these places offer a quiet wellspring of inspiration.

To the nature lover, a biodiversity haven waiting to be noticed.
To the future, a story we’ve yet to finish writing.

Penang is rapidly losing its natural and historical pockets, either due to unchecked development or privatization. We must preserve places like this, not for nostalgia alone—but because they are the lungs, the soul, the memory of our collective being.

Are these abandoned houses haunted? Probably!
Jerejak has long had the reputation as a place where demons and negative spirits were exiled, just like the prisoners once sent here.
Do I intend to find out for myself? Not unless I'm forced to. I have no great desire to walk into the spirit realm uninvited.

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#PulauJerejak #JerejakIsland #HeritagePreservation #AbandonedBeauty #WabiSabi #SpiritualEcology #AestheticConservation #HauntedIslands #NatureAndDecay #MalaysianHistory #CulturalLandscape #EcoTourismMalaysia #PenangHiddenGems #JerejakMysteries #IslandVoices #HistoricalSpaces #NatureSpirits #JapaneseAesthetics #AwareAndWabiSabi

Jerejak – 2 - 3/8/2017 - Revised version.

 Jerejak – 2

3/8/2017

To reach Jerejak Island, one must take a short ferry ride, or what used to be a catamaran, and perhaps still is. My job back then was simple on paper: ensure every passenger bought a ticket, boarded the ferry to and from the island, and that the daily operations of the terminal ran smoothly. The place had to remain pristine and pleasing to the eye upon approach.

To most, this would have been a boring job—sitting around waiting for things to happen. But as always, I chose to make things happen. I took it upon myself to maintain the surrounding yard and personally tended the garden. I made it a daily ritual to collect all the flotsam and trash that washed ashore along the beach as soon as I arrived for work. I would usually come an hour or two earlier than required, not for extra pay, but because I cherished my morning walks through the dark, undeveloped bush paths that led to the terminal.

These early walks were my silent meditations. I chanted softly as I walked through the darkness, making peace with the unseen. I would reach the end of the jetty just before sunrise, climb atop one of the large tie-up pillars, and sit there waiting, watching the horizon blush with the birth of day.

From this spot, I watched the sun shift its rising point along the horizon over time, tracking the passage of days and seasons. Beneath me, the waters splashed softly against the pier, offering a rhythm to my stillness. The terminal, located in Batu Uban, is known by some to be an area of high spiritual activity—perhaps due to its proximity to Pulau Jerejak, with its storied and haunted past.

These solitary walks and meditations helped me confront the fear within me—the fear of the dark, the unknown, the unseen. And through this quiet discipline, I became more conscious, more centered, more in tune with my surroundings, and how I could influence them in positive ways.

Every day, hundreds of visitors passed through the terminal. I saw this as an opportunity—not just to earn a decent living, but to become a living extension of the place itself. I greeted people, helped introduce the resort to newcomers, and quietly infused the space with presence and care.

In a world where we often wait for meaning to arrive, I chose instead to cultivate it, like a quiet garden along the shore, half-hidden, but alive with purpose.

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#JerejakIsland #PulauJerejak #FerryTales #SpiritualPractice #EarlyMorningWalks #FacingFear #BeachCleaning #MindfulWork #SilentMeditation #IslandLife #JerejakResort #TerminalSupervisor #SpiritualDiscipline #SacredRoutine #NatureAndSpirit #PenangStories