Wind

Wind wants to talk
When it whips around the stones
Or rattles the locks
Or bangs the shutters

Wind wants to talk
When it moans in the window
Or whispers in the palm fronds
And hisses in the sand

Wind wants to talk
And its warnings are ignored
It is only the wind we say
But I know better

King Solomon, The Queen and the Hood Hood

Once there was a powerful, wise, and wealthy king by the name of Solomon. Allah favored this king and lavished on him great prosperity, and placed in his power the ranks of all the jinn, men and animals. Allah also gave to Solomon the gift of the language of the Animals so that he could understand their speech and speak to them in return.

So it was that Solomon assembled all his hosts to order and inspect them. Such a large gathering it was that the queen of the ants cried out to her armies, “Run down into the earth or Solomon and his hosts will surely trample us!” Solomon actually heard her when she said this, and he smiled to himself. Was he a powerful King? It was Allah who made him so. He was nothing but an aunt compared to Allah. “So order me and my hosts!” he prayed.

Then Solomon passed by his armies. He strode past rank upon rank of human men, rank upon rank of jinn, rank upon rank of animals, seeing that all were assembled except:

“Where is the hood hood?” he asked. “Why is the hood hood among those who are absent today? Surely I will have to punish him!”

But in a little while the hood hood came down before Solomon who was not happy with him. “Well, bird, what is your excuse?”

“A’asaff my lord,” He gave apology bowing low. “I have been scouting in far away lands and I wish to report to you of my findings.”

“Excuses, excuses,” said the irritated king. The hood hood could not reply, but simply stood at attention waiting, inshalla, for a chance to speak further. Solomon considered the bird, and being a wise king decided to hear him out. “Speak, hood hood, your king is listening.

The hood hood cleared his throat and spoke: “I flew to place called Saba, and this land was ruled by a woman who sat on a most magnificent throne. I have never seen a throne like this. It was fashioned with ebony and gold, and set with jewels and precious gemstones! The queen herself seemed worthy to sit upon such a throne for she was fair and wise to my mind except…”

When the bird hesitated, Solomon, still a little irritated, said, “Do go on, bird, I still have armies to inspect!”

“Yes, your grace. Truly, there is only one God! But in the land of Saba they worship Allah and the sun god!”

At this Solomon took note: “Surely Shaytaan has deceived them!” But Solomon, being wise as well as prudent was not quick to trust the bird. The hood hood may have been just making excuses for being tardy. He said to the bird, loudly enough to be heard in the assembly, “I will have to see whether what he tells me is true or not!”

He whispered a few words to an assistant who quickly brought him parchment and pen. Solomon took a few moments to jot a hasty note. The sun was warm, the zebras swatted flies with their tails, the spider monkeys tried not to fidget too much, and all the ranks of men, jinn, and animals simply had to wait.

When he finished, he rolled the parchment up and put it into the beak of the hood hood. “Deliver this to the Queen of Saba. Once it is in her hand, fly off into some nearby branches and hide, then listen carefully to what she says to her advisors. Then return to me.”

The hood hood took the parchment, bowed and flew up over the palace walls and was gone.

In the cool of the evening the Queen of Saba stood near her window in her palace chamber. There was a sweet smell on the breeze that she couldn’t quite recognize. It drew her heart and mind to a peaceful place—a distant land of goodness, adventure, and mystery. Did such a place exist, she wondered? She hoped so. But suddenly her thoughts were interrupted when a hood hood flew down onto her window ledge with a parchment in its beak.

The hood hood didn’t run from her nor fly away. The Queen was astonished but carefully reached out and stroked the bird’s soft down before she took the parchment.

“Shokrun,” she said to the bird.

“Afwan” replied the hood hood, but all the queen could hear was the bird making the call for which he was named. The hood hood then flew off and settled and hid in the branches of a palm tree, where he could see and listen to what took place next.

Having read the note, the Queen quickly assembled her advisors. “It is from Solomon, the wise king. He greets me in the name of Allah, most merciful, and tells me that he expects me to worship none but Allah alone. This troubles me and, since I always rely on your advice, which I value, I ask you what sort of response I should give.”

The advisors muttered among themselves before giving their opinion. They were not quite sure either, having heard only rumors of the greatness of this king. Still, they believed that they were wealthy, wise, and powerful enough to match any kingdom.

“Good queen, we are willing to war with this king, if need be, we have wealth and resources enough, but the decision is yours to make. Do as you will.”

She was loath to do so.

“Kings, when they wage war, trample the country side, and ruin villages and crops, and leave behind a bloody mess. I will reserve this action for the last and only at great need. No, I will try another approach first. “Let us prepare a gift to give to this King Solomon that will impress upon him that we, too, are wealthy and powerful. Besides, what will all the nations think if we give so great a gift, showing our generous and gracious benevolence? It would be unwise for a king to trouble a country that has shown only kindness. Perhaps too, it may be that we will buy peace and he will leave us alone.”

And so it was that the hood hood reported back to Solomon all that he had seen and heard.


Sometime later, the emissaries from Saba arrived at Solomon’s Palace. They were dressed in fine silk robes embroidered with gold threads, jewels on their fingers and toes, and rubies in their turbans. They had meant to make an impression, but when they came into Solomon’s palace of cedar and gold, they felt somehow small and poor. They presented the treasure all-the-same and noted to themselves that, when they left, they had thought that it was an overly extravagant offering, but now it seemed a rather meager thing indeed. But still they tried to present it as if it were a very great offering.

“Hmmm” said Solomon. “Hmmm” he said again. “Your gift is great in your own eyes, but I have no need of this. I have not asked for gifts! I have asked for only one gift alone and that is that all Saba should worship Allah, the one true god, and serve him only. Go your way. It may be that I will come against you with a very great host.”

So the ambassadors went away, having seen Solomon’s wealth and his armies including the powerful Ifrits (very strong jinn) among the Jinn. Who could stand against Solomon?

When they were gone, Solomon wondered what he should do. He needed to know more about this queen of Saba. He turned to his jinn. “Who among you can bring me the wondrous throne of this queen of which the hood hood spoke?

One ifrit was more than eager to do it and was rather aggressive and boastful about it, but another jinni, who had knowledge of the holy book, said, humbly, that he could bring the throne to Solomon in the blink of an eye. So Solomon sent the more humble jinn, and immediately the throne appeared in his palace. It truly was a dazzling throne.

“This comes to me by the gift of Allah,’ he said quietly to himself. “I must not forget to be thankful for his blessing.”

“Now,” said the wise king, “we shall test this queen to see if she can see the truth of things! If so, perhaps there is hope that she may see what is false and what is true regarding Allah!” And he commanded his jinn to transform the throne and make it completely unrecognizable to the queen’s human eyes.


When at last the Queen of Saba arrived she saw, and understood that Allah had given everything to Solomon. This was no ordinary wealth and power, for no one can command the jinn and the animals but by the grace and will of Allah. Inshalla. She knew in her heart the truth of things and so Allah opened her eyes. And when she and King Solomon passed by her throne she stopped. So Solomon asked her, “Is this your throne?”

“Indeed, my lord, it is, or else is the exact image of it.”

“Come,” he said to her, “let me show you my palace.” When she came to the great hall she descended the steps but paused before stepping down. She pulled up her dress a bit exposing her ankles before stepping onto the floor. Some in the court were a bit scandalized by this, but Solomon understood what she was doing and said, “It is not water you will step in. Perhaps you have never seen polished glass!” And he chuckled a bit.

It was at this point that the Queen of Saba, overwhelmed by the blessings that had been conferred upon Solomon by God, confessed to Solomon that there was only one deity: Solomon’s god. And she submitted herself to Solomon and vowed to worship only Allah.


So it was that Solomon, may his name be blessed forever, led the Queen of Saba to faith in the One True God.

The End.

Based on the Qur'an Chapter 27

To sleep, perchance to dream…

There are so many theories about dreams and what they are. There are also just as many ideas about how to interpret them. Some scientists whom I have heard speak, have commented on the subject, and I think they tend to dismiss dreams as nothing but random discharges of the neurons and we simply ascribe a narrative to them and call it a dream. Frankly, I think that because there is so little that can be empirically verified, the dream experience is dismissed and not dealt with by a great many scientists. You can’t really verify what is in a dream. You can see that the brain is active during REM with an MRI and this is about all you can see. Only the dreamer can tell you what he or she dreamed. The MRI and neuroscience will never be able to verify the existence of a thought or a dream in terms of its content and process. One can only trust what the “observer” the thinker or dreamer says about it. And the observer’s subjective experience is practically worthless to a scientist.

What came first, I wonder, the thought or the neuron charge? Is the thought the result of the neurons discharging as the response to an external stimulus? I don’t think any credible scientist would say otherwise. But I do. The thought, the dream, and the unverifiable invisible person who had the thought, existed before the body or brain reacted to them and their initiative. Then the brain responded to the invisible “observer” and it lights up the MRI scan. The person has had a thought and the body has responded. We are all incarnate. We are all infleshed. But we are something else too. Our existence lies beyond the neurons.

What are dreams? Dreams are sometimes bereft of much meaning. But sometimes they are loaded with profound meaning. We all know this. A great truth or self-revelation lies just under the surface, down in what Freud and Jung first referred to as the subconscious or the unconscious. And it bubbles up to the surface in a dream. We sense meaning in it, we tell it to another who sees the obvious meaning and reflects it back to us. Then we have this epiphany—this revelation experience. We see the truth of the dream and it is often a relief to us.

I have begun to migrate away from the term “subconscious” and say only that there is something there—in the layers of our being--that is very mysterious and that we cannot understand in any scientific terms. There is a part of our self that remains beyond the brain. A self that doesn’t know the very language we use. Language is in the brain. It is mostly trapped in Broca’s area. But the part of the self that doesn’t know English has other means of communication to the infleshed self. This self has observed all that our eyes have seen and ears have heard, but which the brain is too limited in focus to catch. This aspect of our self does not have words but uses a language of image and metaphor. It uses the language of dreams. Dreams are a metaphorical language: series of images strung together in a narrative. That invisible part of us is using the substance of our daily experiences—things we didn’t see “consciously” we say, but that another part of our self picked up on it and sent it back to us in dream metaphor.

I am convinced that when we die and the brain goes, our learned language will go with it, but not the metaphorical language. It is a start—a beginning of a new, yet most ancient language from before the dawn of language itself. And I should say there is yet another language beyond the language of metaphor and that is the language of love. How do we find our way in the underworld? Understand Metaphor. Dante chose Virgil! A Poet! Who else knows the language of the heart? The Metaphor is the poet’s great tool. Let me then use poetry to develop my thought.

Here is yet another selection from Peter the Pirate that perhaps is a better way of stating what I’m after, than I can at this moment in an essay. Forgive a spoiler for a story you may likely never read. This section comes just after the death of Peter the Pirate:



From part 11: The Dreams that Come

Now what is death? And what is life?
And what is time and space?
It is a dream that we all share
A myth that we all chase.

And though life seems so very real
It is a metaphor;
A shadow of the bigger things
That hide behind death’s door.

And when we sleep we dream of things
Too hard to understand.
And harder still to keep those dreams
When daylight’s close at hand.

The things that made us weep at night
Vanish from the mind.
And little heed we give to them,
And to these dreams are blind.

And yet they speak to us, these dreams,
In a language we should learn.
That we should know the way to go
And which way not to turn.

Words we hold within our brains
And when we die they rot
But dreams come from the soul and so
We die, but they do not.

And so the dream of Peter lived
That language he did learn
And thus he knew which way to go
And on which path to turn.

And guides he had, that he knew well,
Who helped him on his way
His heart he had, and life he had
And beauty—that did stay.

Faith, and hope, and love he had
And there were several more
That helped him then through every gate
And every room and door.