An Arab taxi driver is paralysed in an attack in London.
Stones are thrown at a school bus taking pupils to a Muslim school in Australia.
Mosques in the USA are vandalised, sprayed with graffiti.
Something has happened. Something that resonates across the world.
Many things have the potential to exist in the mists that surround Subreality.
Many things have the potential.
And some are brought into being.
It is not /known/, not to many.
It is... /necessary/, perhaps.
There would be some who would ask why? Why does this place exist?
There are many who ask themselves why? Why did this happen? How could people - other
humans - do this?
It seems insignificant in the face of the event, but still they ask.
How could this be done in the name of our faith? How could anyone - *anyone* - who
claimed to be a Muslim do this?
This was harram - against religion. Against our faith.
This is not a jihad. The true jihad means 'struggle' - struggle with the demons within,
that challenge your faith, struggle against the world's cruelties, struggle to keep the
There is struggle. Struggle to understand.
And there is fear.
Fear for family. Fear for friends. Fear for yourself.
The fear of having lost someone in the event.
Fears shared by others across the planet.
And fear of anger. Fear of reprisal, of retribution.
That the many will be blamed for the sins of the few.
That their innocents will die, as so many innocents died.
Will be killed. An eye for an eye.
In the face of this...
In the face of this, there are prayers, and hopes, and fears.
And there is silence before God.
The God of One is the God of the Three.
Allah is God is YHVH.
Three names, one God.
/All/ are People of the Book - whether that Book is the Torah, the Bible or the Qu'ran.
Sutras and chapters and hymns...
And the silence.
The silence before God.
This is the Place of the Khilwat, the Place of the Silence.
The Quiet Place.
It cannot be attacked - how can you attack something that has no structure, has no
It cannot be destroyed, for there is nothing here to destroy.
It cannot be desecrated, for it is not a place of worship.
Few will come here, but still it exists.
Pass through the walls that surround it-
-bismillah hiramah niraheem-
-our father who art in heaven-
-never again, never again-
-as you enter, you know its name.
You cannot say how, but you know.
A name given by one faith, let stand by the others.
This is not a place for one faith.
This is a place of faith, built by faith.
By the prayers and the fears across the world.
It is a simple place.
It is not ornamented. It does not need to be.
There is nothing to hear.
Nothing but the silence within.
Listen to what comes in that moment of silence.
In that moment, what can be said?
There is no question. There is no answer.
Nothing, perhaps, that can be said.
And then you leave.
Perhaps never to come again.
Perhaps to come once more, to listen one more time.
Perhaps to seek it out again and again, until what is sought for is found.
But it exists, whether it is sought or not.
It is... necessary, perhaps.
Only in the silence is this known.
Copyright 2001 Imran Inayat