Title: From Meat Cutter to Way-Seeker Posted: 29 April 2008 | Revised Edition

 

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Title: From Meat Cutter to Way-Seeker
Posted: 29 April 2008 | Revised Edition

“Man cannot attain the truth unless he is pure because his worldly attributes will not leave him until the essence is manifested in him. This is true sincerity. His ignorance will only leave him when he receives the knowledge of divine essence. One cannot do this with education; only the Lord of Truth, without intermediaries, can teach it. When the Lord Most High is Himself the Teacher, He gives one the knowledge from Himself... The man who knows must be aware that the child of the spirit, which is born in the heart, is the meaning of true humanity; that is the true human being. He should educate the child of the heart, teaching unity, being constantly aware of unity—leaving this world of matter and of multiplicity, seeking the spiritual world of mysteries, where there is none other than the Essence of the Divine Truth.”
— Hadrat Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (may Allah protect his secrets)

 

When I first set out to seek answers to the questions that had been gnawing at my soul, I was living in Green Bay, Wisconsin. For three years, I worked as a boner and meat cutter in the packing houses of Green Bay and Milwaukee. It was one of the most grueling, dehumanizing jobs I’ve ever done.

I endured it long enough to realize that I was slowly becoming like the very cattle I was cutting into pieces for supermarkets and burger joints. The monotony, the violence, the industrial coldness—it all seeped into me. I lost my marriage and, with it, custody of my son. I descended into a shadow version of myself: drunk or stoned most days after work, chasing women, driven by impulses and desire. I had become a beast—conscience dulled, fear of God and man evaporated.

That dark period taught me exactly how far a human being can fall when stripped of meaning.

But grace came quietly and unexpectedly. First, in the form of that painful divorce. And then, in the form of a neighbor who saw something in me I had forgotten. He encouraged me to leave the meat industry behind and return to school. He believed I had it in me to be a student.

With nothing left to lose and everything to discover, I took his advice and enrolled at the University of Wisconsin, Green Bay. To my surprise, I took to academic life like a fish to water. Apart from a few clashes with certain professors that resulted in failed or incomplete grades, I graduated with honors—Cum Laude.

                       With your knowledge and talent as an artist, you will be a teacher, Shamsul.

More importantly, those years of study sparked the reawakening of my spiritual self, long dormant since I left Malaysia. I was introduced to spiritual writings by professors and friends. I found deep resonance in the teachings of Zen Buddhism, even as I continued to identify as a Muslim. Art became my tool for reflection and expression. My sketchbooks began to fill again.

I was accepted into the University Without Walls, a self-designed degree program under the University of Wisconsin–Madison. That’s when my true journey began. I traveled as part of my education across the U.S. and around the world. From England to Germany, Colombia to Ecuador. Across the deserts and mountains of New Mexico, Arizona, and Colorado, living out of the trunk of an old Chevy Impala. My final semester was spent in Malaysia, where I had the rare opportunity to witness the Gawai Hantu ceremony of the Iban people in Sarawak.

                            I met up with the young and energetic seekers from all over the world.

During these travels, which often lasted two to three months at a time, I carried books instead of baggage: works by J. Krishnamurti, Paramahamsa Yogananda, Alan Watts, Ram Dass, G.I. Gurdjieff and Ouspensky, D.T. Suzuki, Chögyam Trungpa, and Carlos Castaneda. I wasn’t just reading—I was applying, testing, observing.

By the time I completed my degree, I had gained something far beyond academic knowledge. I had awakened. And that awakening placed me on a lifelong path of self-inquiry and spiritual discipline. Since then, I’ve kept journals of my thoughts, encounters, and realizations. Sketchbooks, writings, reflections—these have become the scaffolding of my life’s work.

                                               I was able to stand in the ruins of Pompeii

This blog is part of that offering.

It is my humble hope that these simple efforts—born of lived experience and spiritual seeking—may be of use to others on the same path. To those seeking truth. To those wondering who they really are. To those who, having tasted knowledge, now ask: What next?

This is for the seekers who have begun to feel the silent tug of their own divinity—and who are willing to walk the long, beautiful road back to the Source.