Stick to the balanced middle in all affairs

Wahb Ibn Munabbih said:

A scholar once asked another greater than him in knowledge:

“How much should I build?”

He replied “As much as shelters you from the sun and the rain.”

He asked “How much food should I eat?”

He replied “More than what keeps you hungry and less than what makes you full.

He asked “How much should I wear?”

He replied “As the Messiah (Isa) did.”

He asked “How much should I laugh?”

He replied “As much as appears on your face but does not make audible your voice.

He asked “How much should I cry? ”

He replied, “Never tire from crying out of the fear of Allah.”

He asked “How much should I hide my deeds?”

He replied “Until people think you had not done a good deed.

He asked “How much should I make public my deeds?”

He replied “As much as will let the keen follow your example but not have the people talk about you.

Wahb said. “Everything has two ends and a middle. If you grab one end, the other will slant, but if you take the middle, both ends will balance. Stick to the balanced middle in all affairs.

[Source: Abu Nu’aym, Hilyatu Al-Awliya` 4:45]

How Far Is Too Far When It Comes To Starting An Affair With My Coworker?

Anna Pulley, Red Eye Chicago Dating, 5 September 2013:

I’ve been flirtatiously g-chatting with a co-worker of mine. He’s married and even though I think (I know) I would never ever do anything, is this the way affairs start? Am I fooling myself? When does online flirtation cross the line to being not OK?—Emoticonfused

Dear Emoticonfused,

No one who has ever had an affair has ever had one with a workmate with whom they exchanged flirtatious messages, because everyone who has ever had an affair just walked up to the nearest person and started putting their private parts together and BAM, adultery. So you’re totally fine - you can’t fool yourself if you know to look for the warning signs of an affair, which are definitely not boundary-crossing messages that cause you to question the nature of your relationship with a platonic acquaintance. 

عجبا لأمر المؤمن، إن أمره كله خير، وليس ذلك إلا للمؤمن، إن أصابته سراء شكر فكان خيرا له، وإن أصابته ضراء صبر فكان خيرا له

The Prophet (صلى الله عليه وسلم): ”Indeed, strange is the affair of the mu`min (believer). And this is not for anyone except the believer. If something good befalls him, he is thankful, and this is good for him. And if a hardship befalls him, then he is patient, and it is good for him.”

[Sahih Muslim]

Johnlock Song Series
  • Johnlock Song Series
  • Part 3
Play

Sometimes we find the ones we need and at times we leave the one we need too. But Sherlock had never expected it to end like this. And he shouldn’t have been the one who was begging, trying to make things right because it was John who had slept with her… who had touched her.

On one drunken whim, everything was now about to end.

“I don’t mind.” Sherlock Whispered into the darkness, wondering if the still body beside him had fallen asleep. The silence that followed seemed to answer that question until John rolled over and skimmed his cheek with the tip of his nose, quivering breath skating flesh.

“Don’t say that.” John murmured, desperately.

Sherlock hated the way his hands gripped his arms as if he were his only life support.

“You can’t decide that for me.” Sherlock argued, weakly.

“Don’t pretend like this is all fine, Sherlock. You deserve so much more.”

Butterflies were batting at his insides, the dangerous ones with knives for wings, stuttering his lungs and gouging his eyes. Nightmares personified.

He would wake up any minute. He had to.

“I still don’t mind it.” Sherlock replied, softly.

John’s hands disappeared with a bitter sting and he turned his back, now facing the obnoxious clock on the wall. Ticking away what felt like their last wasted seconds.

“Us— I’m not happy with it. That’s why I turned to her. You never even look at me anymore. I know that sounds selfish and idiotic but you could have spared one goddamn second from a case instead of driving me away like this.”

It all came lashing out so sudden and yet issued through Sherlock’s mind like winding syrup, never quite thickening. It was his fault. All of it.

Curling on his side, Sherlock forced his eyes shut and ignored the wetness that somehow escaped, betraying him…

“I’ll come and get my things tomorrow.” John said.

And he did.

Sherlock came back from a dull case the following night and John’s medical books that were once scattered across his bedside were missing and the closet was more than empty… The laptop gone. And the bed was done up in some orderly fashion as if pretending they had never shared it.

Sherlock didn’t believe him. Not even when John began to see her on a daily basis. Not even when it had been nearly three weeks since they last had spoken. John had sent texts to him of course but it didn’t count if Sherlock just deleted them right after.

Sherlock didn’t believe him when he saw him a month later at a hospital after being shot and John ran in, sentimentally wrecked and all. But what was he to say to him? After everything…

Apparently John was still seeing her, but he never mentioned his new relationship and when he brought Sherlock back to Baker Street, he made him tea and left an hour later.

He started to see him more and more, which he viewed as a good thing because it looks like John had given up long ago but now they were going on cases together. And after Sherlock pressed John against the brick wall while on a midnight chase and kissed him fiercely, John pushed him off and told him he didn’t need him anymore.

And it was back to John being away from his life.

Sherlock still didn’t believe him because this has all got to be right. They were right. Right? John was imagining that what they had was never reality, rather a bad dream. But Sherlock knew he would come around. He had to. He just had to.

“I told you not to come around here anymore.” John said when he opened the door and Sherlock was standing at his pavement, nervously pacing.

John sighed and stepped forward, pulling Sherlock into the width of his embrace and for a second Sherlock could imagine that they hadn’t been apart. Not even once. Never.

“Don’t pretend you never loved me.” Sherlock said, his voice cracking with the endurance of a plain composure.

“I couldn’t.” John breathed.

She must have gone out for some milk or something of importance because she was gone as John turned on the kettle and turned back to Sherlock, while they both sat in the kitchen chairs.  

“We fight and at times I let you down but I never understood why I was being punished this way. Why you loved her more…” It was the first time Sherlock had even brought her up directly. But there was no time to over-analyze or contemplate before John was touching him delicately… testing his bounds and finding their old routine.

Sherlock stood and sat in John’s lap, tipping back his head and kissed him with such reverence, that John would have to be convinced that Sherlock would only want him or would only pick him. Exhaling harshly, John removed both belts and brought Sherlock off and Sherlock fell to his knees and returned the favor, graciously. Afterwards Sherlock knew it was still there. The passion. Everything that would keep them both up late at night.

“I still don’t mind John.” Sherlock muttered, wiping his mouth.

“I don’t believe you.”

But no. It was the other way around. Sherlock didn’t believe John. All this time and Sherlock never believed John from the instant he left. It was because he did mind. Therefore, John truly didn’t believe him as well.

Sherlock wanted more. So much more.

But she would be home soon.

They’ve had enough now. 

Part 1          Part 2

You have nothing. You have a piles of secrets and lies and you’re calling it love. And in the meantime, you’re letting your WHOLE life pass you by while THEY raise children and celebrate anniversaries and grow old together. You’re frozen in time. You’re holding your breathe. You’re a statue waiting for something that’s NEVER going to happen. Living for stolen moments in hotel lobbies and coat closets. You keep telling yourself it all adds up to something real because in YOUR mind it HAS to but they DON’T They won’t. They NEVER will because stolen moments aren’t a life. So you have nothing! You have NO ONE. End it NOW.
The Blessing in Minding Your Own Business

There is a hadith that is often quoted to encourage people against backbiting or slander. The hadith is as follows:

Abu Hurairah (radi Allahu anhu) narrated that the Messenger of Allah (sal Allahu alaihi wa sallam) said: “Indeed among the excellence of a person’s Islam is that he leaves alone that which does not concern him.” [Chapters on Zuhd: Jami At-Tirmidhi]

What we often don’t realise is that by leaving alone that which does not concern us, we actually lighten our burden. I’m not just talking about our burden of sins, but more importantly, our burden in this life. I say more importantly because the more burdened we feel, the more likely we are to turn towards a haraam avenue for relief from that burden which directly increases our burden of sins. And if we don’t succumb to the haraam options available, we certainly find ourselves having to expend that much more energy on staying away from it than would otherwise be needed.

So it stands to reason that the less we meddle in the affairs of others, the more time we’ll have to do beneficial things for those around us, and for ourselves. The next time you find yourself inquiring into the affairs of others, ask yourself this:

  1. Am I just curious?
  2. Am I looking for an opportunity to expose their faults?
  3. Am I genuinely concerned?

If the answer is either 1 or 2, seek protection in Allah from the whispers of Shaytaan and walk away from the situation. If 3, seek protection in Allah from the whispers of Shaytaan and proceed with sincerity and a regular check on your motives for being involved and seek guidance from Allah in your efforts to assist the person you’re concerned about.

May Allah guide us in our affairs. Ameen.

2

no teeth to spit (download) (listen)

for late night phone calls made just mention the 3 AM drink on your tongue.  they never taste like much.  every meeting starts with a hotel room number texted in the afternoon.  they start with separate elevators and end with orange street lights snared in rearview mirrors.  for the bastard boy that bruises and who bruises you.  you want to say he broke up a marriage and made you leave behind something sweet.  but he’s all you’ve had for a long time- if you have him at all.

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