celebrating death religiously

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I was watching an African series called “The No. 1 Ladies detective agency”. My mind got stuck when I saw how Africans from Botswana celebrate a funeral. They celebrate it. They are not moaning. They are singing. They are not singing sad songs and gasping. They are singing happy songs and expressing joyous feelings. They are emanating powerful energy. It is astonishing how funerals and death are perceived in today’s society, especially in the west. Death is associated with a state of suffering. Suffering for the loss of a person. Human beings are not suffering because the person who has just “passed away” is in pain, since in reality that person is living a state of peace. There is no pain at all. People are suffering because they themselves feel pain and a sense of attachment. It is a pain caused by the loss. The fear of being lonely makes them suffer. Now, I’d like you to see the nature of this matter. Human beings are not sorry for the other person. They will never be, since there is no reason to be sorry for a person who is living in peace. They are not concerned about the other person even though they claim so, saying “poor darling, suffering so much. He was so young” and lots of ” unaware bla bla bla” which one of the most famous French authors Ionesco called “Le theatre de l’absurd” . People are concerned about themselves. They are scared. Scared to be lonely. Tearing at a funeral is natural and human. The essence of those tears is what matters to me and why I decided to write about death. Are those tears the manifestation of a pure feeling and beautiful memories one has shared with the person who “passed away”? Are those tears celebrating that person? Or are those tears the manifestation of an ego which condemns the person who “passed away”by attributing him no life (considering him dead)? Are those tears arisen by a feeling of loss and loneliness? Feel my words…

Crying and feeling pain is a natural feeling of life. It is beautiful. It makes you feel alive. It means you are able to cry – it is an art of expression. It is the nature of those tears I would like to write a few words about. They say that the person “has passed away”. What do they really mean? They mean that that person is “not with us any more” attributing this statement lots of negativity. Passing away or dying means being taken away the possibility to live life here with us. People believe it. Do they have any proof? NO. So, why do they believe it? Why do they follow anything that has been said and then crystallized by doctrinal religions? Who made up all those religions? Men made them up. I am a human being too and I’d like to talk about my “religion”.

My religion has no name. If I give it a name, it will lose all its beauty.
My religion has no rules. If it had rules, then it would be limited.
My religion is not part of an institution. If it was part of an institution, then it would be part only of that institution and separate itself from the rest of the world.
My religion has no preacher. If it had a preacher, everyone would follow that preacher passively and avoid to act according to his feelings and therefore limiting himself from living its truth.
My religion is not written in any book. If it was written in a book, then it would be crystallized and used by human beings as a way of conduct.
My religion has no moral. If it had a moral, then it would be judged.
My religion is not a religion.
It is a melodic art with lots of colours.
It is everything that you can possibly see with your eyes.
It is everything that you can hear with your ears.
It is everything that you can imagine with your imagination.
It is everything that you can think of with the power of your thoughts – transformation.
It is everything you can feel with your heart.
It is everything you can live with your soul.
It is a your feeling and it is pluralistic and diverse, because everyone’s feelings are diverse by nature.
It is freedom.
Freedom of thought. Freedom of expression. Freedom of imagination. Freedom of action. Freedom of feeling. Freedom of belief.
Freedom of living.
Freedom of being free.

Death, therefore, is not necessarily death.
It can be life. It can be freedom. It can be light rather than darkness. When you close your eyes, do you see darkness? I see colours.
It can be liberation. Liberation from a state of suffering.
It can be joyous and alive.

So, let’s celebrate death like we celebrate life. Let’s celebrate it with tears, songs, music, flowers, plants, trees and everything that is ALIVE.
It is part of our life and it is ALIVE.

When I cry, I am happy.
When I am happy, I cry.
Crying is ecstasy and pain at the same time.
Both feelings are the manifestation of a human being who is ALIVE and grateful for those tears and life.

I am alive since I am life, a life.
I feel life – namely my ‘self’.

Everything I feel and do is right. It is meant to be. I live it. Fully and passionately.
My life is love and love is my life.

In my life I find it difficult to answer “why” questions.
My life lacks any reason, since my life is the reason.
My life is a context out of the context.

In saying that my religion has no name, at the same time I say I am a muslimah. I practise Islam. Islam is peace and love, not a religion for me. It is a way of life. I do not follow Islam as a religion – namely, as a set of rules rectified in a book written by men and adjusted by them for the sole purpose of creating a patriarchal society where a woman is considered an object, where the soul of a woman has been  emptied. No. I practise the Islam which is based on peace and love. I follow the voice of Allah, encrypted in the Qu’ran and written in my heart.

Poetic Lyric

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