Al-Jeem Foundation

23/11/2025

The Foundation built upon Nor
Mualima Laila’s Annual Moulood Celebrations

23/11/2025

*Omar’s Tale – A Story From the Passage*

قَالَتْ فَذَٰلِكُنَّ الَّذِي لُمْتُنَّنِي فِيهِ ۖ وَلَقَدْ رَاوَدتُّهُ عَن نَّفْسِهِ فَاسْتَعْصَمَ ۖ وَلَئِن لَّمْ يَفْعَلْ مَا آمُرُهُ لَيُسْجَنَنَّ وَلَيَكُونًا مِّنَ الصَّاغِرِينَ (32)

In a distant valley where the sun kissed the desert sand and the night whispered ancient prayers, lived *Omar*, a boy of thirteen, named after the luminous moon of the holy month. The year was 1447 H, and the world felt old, as if every stone remembered a story lost to time.

His father, *Sheikh Idris*, had once ruled the village council with gentle authority, his words a compass for the young. Yet the seasons turned strange. The old order cracked, and a new council rose—youthful, restless, bearing symbols of a different faith. The elders warned: _“The fathers are being exchanged with daughters, the earth mourns, and the sun shields the souls.”_

One dusk, Omar’s mother, *Aisha*, handed him a worn coin, its faces worn smooth by generations. On one side, a co**se—death of ignorance; on the other, a blossom—value of knowledge. “Guard it,” she whispered, “for the contract of life is only as real as we believe.”

That night, a dream visited him. A luminous figure, *Yusuf (Joseph)*, stood amid a field of wheat and stars. “I searched for clarity,” Yusuf said, “while my father’s kingdom fell, and the king of heavens and earth watched. The world is a coin—hidden and revealed. My story is a mirror for every soul that feels lost in shifting shadows.”

Awakening, Omar felt the weight of the coin in his palm. He saw the village elders—once pillars—now puppets of a corrupted deen, their words hollow. He saw his father, humbled, stepping aside for his daughter *Fatima*, who bore the wisdom of the ancestors. The old government crumbled, its towers of sand swept away by a wind called *Nuw*, fresh water from the unseen spring of Noon.

قَالَ اجْعَلْنِي عَلَىٰ خَزَائِنِ الْأَرْضِ ۖ إِنِّي حَفِيظٌ عَلِيمٌ (55)

Guided by the *Al‑Ameen*, the trusted one, Omar walked to the mountain of *Arafat*, where the sun paused to listen. There he heard the soft hum of the Great Mother, the Earth herself, testifying, _“Yusuf’s wisdom was forsaken, yet his soul carries the light of Irfaan.”_

He understood: knowledge (Ilm) is the co**se that feeds growth; wisdom (Irfaan) is the blossom that spreads fragrance. The contract they all signed was perception—valueless in the outer world, yet priceless within.

Returning, Omar gathered the children. He placed the coin on a stone and said:

> “We are the new age, nuw reality. Let our deeds be the fresh water, our hearts the pure realm. Let the mothers’ love return to every thought, for the old has passed, and the new dawn is built on knowledge and baraka.”

The sun rose, casting golden protection over the valley. The old order dissolved, the new council formed—one that honored both the hidden and the face of truth. And in every child’s eye, Omar saw the reflection of Yusuf’s smile—a reminder that wisdom, once lost, can always be found again.
*End note:*
The story mirrors the symbols you shared—exchange of generations, the dual coin of death and value, the journey of Yusuf (peace be upon him) as a path of clarity, and the promise of a fresh, blessed reality.

Mashaa Allaahu

الفطرة اكادمي

23/11/2025

*The Little Light and the Digital Thread*

كِتَابٌ مَّرْقُومٌ (20)

In a quiet village beneath a sky painted with twinkling stars, a child named *Amani* loved to chase fireflies at dusk. One night, an old wise turtle named *Mzee* appeared by the river.

“Every child has a light inside,” Mzee said, “and a thread that carries it through the world. Today, that thread is woven with numbers and codes.”

Amani frowned. “What thread?”

Mzee smiled. “When you were born, a tiny spark was placed in a crystal box. The box gave you a number—your ID. It kept track of your first cry, your first step, the songs you sang. Later, the village added more threads:

- *School*: a badge with a code that let you into the library.
- *Market*: a digital coin that bought you fruit.
- *Friends*: messages that flew like fireflies across the sky.

Each thread glowed, but some were thin and could tangle. Amani watched as a strong wind—*the Algorithm*—tried to arrange the threads to show only certain colors. It made the village see only what the wind wanted.

Feeling the pull, Amani asked, “How do I keep my light safe?”

Mzee whispered, “You can:

1. *Know the box.* Open it, see what’s inside, and decide what to keep.
2. *Guard the key.* A secret password or a fingerprint—only you should hold it.
3. *Trim the tangles.* Turn off lights you don’t need, delete threads you outgrow.
4. *Share wisely.* Give the bright threads to friends who love your light.

Amani practiced. She logged into her “data garden,” pulled a tangled string, and pressed *Delete*. She set a strong password, imagined it as a sturdy fence around her crystal box. When a friend asked for a secret, she whispered, “Only if it keeps our lights shining.”

Soon, the village noticed the clearer glow. The wind softened, the algorithm balanced, and the fireflies danced more freely.

Mzee nodded. “Your light shines brightest when you tend it with care, and when you let others see it, the whole sky glows.”

Amani smiled, feeling the warm pulse of her own digital thread humming in harmony with the night.
*Moral (for the soul children)*
Your ID is just a thread. You hold the loom. Tend it, protect it, and let your light guide you .

الفطرة اكادمي

23/11/2025

Gabeebeiyas (All Blacks) Live Mawid - Ocean View, Cape Town

22/11/2025

🌹

فَرَوْحٌ وَرَيْحَانٌ وَجَنَّتُ نَعِيمٍ (89)

The symbolic and metaphorical connections between heaven, Jannat, and the natural world, particularly the concept of Mother Earth.

In many spiritual traditions, Jannat (or heaven) is often depicted as a lush garden, filled with rivers, trees, and flowers. This imagery serves as a metaphor for a state of consciousness of paradise, where the soul can find peace, tranquility, and unity with the divine.
So then why is Jannat not depicted as Mother Earth herself, given that the natural world provides for all human needs and is a manifestation of the divine. This is a profound question that encourages us to reconsider our relationship with the natural world.

By depicting Jannat as a garden, rather than Mother Earth, we may be perpetuating a subtle distinction between the natural world and the divine realm. This distinction can lead to a sense of disconnection and separation between humans and the natural world.

بَيْنَهُمَا بَرْزَخٌ لَّا يَبْغِيَانِ (20)

“we live in Jannat and not on Jannat" that means we should strive to live in harmony with our nature, rather than simply inhabiting it as separate entities. This perspective encourages us to adopt a more holistic and integrated understanding of our place within the web of life inside our mothers earth jannat

The reference to the "curse" being "linguistic (Jordan is اردن Urdon godenً garden reeled" at the foot of the Dead Sea is intriguing. It may allude to the idea that our language and perceptions can shape our understanding of reality, and that by reexamining our linguistic and cultural narratives, we can begin to heal the rift between humans and the natural world.

Ultimately, our words invite us to reconsider our relationship with the natural world, to recognize the intricate web of life that sustains us, and to strive for a deeper sense of harmony and unity with the land and its rhythms.

The spells are very deeply rooted in the mind and that’s what keeps us in the perpetual loop of denying our true conscious spiritual reality presence !
Al Fitraa Academy is the spiritual hub of the soul tribes

22/11/2025

*🌌 The Compassionate Narrative of the Great Trek 🌌*

يَا مَعْشَرَ الْجِنِّ وَالْإِنسِ إِنِ اسْتَطَعْتُمْ أَن تَنفُذُوا مِنْ أَقْطَارِ السَّمَاوَاتِ وَالْأَرْضِ فَانفُذُوا ۚ لَا تَنفُذُونَ إِلَّا بِسُلْطَانٍ (33)

In the hush of the turning ages, the *Soul Tribes* felt a gentle pull— a whisper woven into the wind, the rustle of leaves, the heartbeat of the earth. It was time for the *Great Trek*, a pilgrimage not of feet alone, but of spirit crossing the inner and outer deserts to reach the *Promised Garden* of *Aam Al‑Fiel*.
# # # 1. Departure from the Old Camp
- *Evening of Farewells* – Fires flickered as the *72 Mothers* sang lullabies of memory, their voices wrapping each traveler in love.
- *Sister Amiena*, radiant with the glow of *Fitra*, lifted a lantern of *Nur*, its light spilling onto the path and into every heart.
- *Caravans of Light* formed: families, friends, strangers bound by a shared yearning for *Truth, Reconciliation, Restoration, Abundance*.

# # # 2. Crossing the Shifting Sands
- *Heat of Illusion* – mirages rose, doubts whispered, “Is this real?”
- *Compassion as Water*: Every stumbling foot found a hand— a brother, a sister, an unseen guide— offering a sip of *living spring*, a word of *hope*.
- *Songs of Mariachi* rose at dusk, trumpets echoing the promise that *the universe drums for those who walk with love*.

# # # 3. The Valley of Reflection
- *Mirrors of the Soul*: Pools of *clear light* reflected each face, showing wounds and the tender smile behind them.
- *Healing*: The *Mothers’ chants* untangled knots in the DNA of *Fitra*, restoring broken threads, letting forgiveness bloom like desert flowers after rain.

# # # 4. Arrival – The Daughter’s Garden
- *Golden horizon*: The *New Earth* unfolded— a *garden* where every seed of intention sprouted *sustainable life (Seif)*.
- *Inheritance claimed*: Each missionary received a *tablet of light*, inscribed with their *personal truth*, *path of reconciliation*, *tools for restoration*, and *keys to abundance*.
- *Celebration*: Drums, flutes, and laughter rose as *Mariachi colors* painted the sky— reds of love, blues of peace, greens of growth.

# # # 5. The Ongoing Journey
- *Compassion never ends*: The trek continues within, a *circular pilgrimage* where every step is a return to *the heart of the Mother*.
- *Legacy*: Stories of the trek are carried forward, whispered to new generations, ensuring the *Fitra flame* never dims.
*A Tender Reflection*

> _We walked not because the path was easy,
but because the love that called us was deeper than night,
brighter than the towers of Nur.
In every footfall, compassion grew,
in every breath, the universe sang._
*If this narrative touches something inside, we the soul tribe of our ancestArs roeg

الفطرة اكادمي

22/11/2025

*Deep Introspection on the Heavenly Momentous Facilitation*

قَالَ ادْخُلُوا فِي أُمَمٍ قَدْ خَلَتْ مِن قَبْلِكُم مِّنَ الْجِنِّ وَالْإِنسِ فِي النَّارِ ۖ كُلَّمَا دَخَلَتْ أُمَّةٌ لَّعَنَتْ أُخْتَهَا ۖ حَتَّىٰ إِذَا ادَّارَكُوا فِيهَا جَمِيعًا قَالَتْ أُخْرَاهُمْ لِأُولَاهُمْ رَبَّنَا هَٰؤُلَاءِ أَضَلُّونَا فَآتِهِمْ عَذَابًا ضِعْفًا مِّنَ النَّارِ ۖ قَالَ لِكُلٍّ ضِعْفٌ وَلَٰكِن لَّا تَعْلَمُونَ (38)

In the hush of *1 Jumādā al‑Ākhira 1447*, the universe seemed to pause, allowing the weight of divine facilitation to settle like luminous dust on every breath.

*The 72 Mothers*, ancient custodians of lineage, have released their stewardship, handing the torch to *the New Daughters*. This act is not merely administrative—it is a cosmic surrender, a shedding of old patterns that no longer serve the soul’s evolution.

*The New Terrain of Aam Al‑Fiel* feels like a freshly plowed field, dark, fertile, waiting for seeds of consciousness to take root. The *Towers of Nur*, aligned with celestial geometry, act as pillars of light, guiding the descent of new intelligence, technology, and a psychology that honors both mind and spirit.

*What this moment whispers within:*
- *Transition as Trust* – Letting go of familiar hierarchies invites trust in the unseen flow of divine timing.
- *Responsibility of Light* – The Nur towers signify that illumination is a responsibility; each new daughter carries a fragment of that light to her region.
- *Collective Evolution* – The “new seeds” are not isolated gifts but shared possibilities for humanity’s growth, preserving the core essence while expanding perception.
- *Silence and Sound* – The decree is spoken, yet its true meaning resides in the silence between words, where the heart decodes the language of the heavens.

*Reflection Questions*
1. Where in my life am I being asked to surrender an old mantle?
2. What “light” am I being called to carry to my community or world?
3. How can I stay present to the subtle shifts, the quiet Nur that appears in stillness?

This moment is a reminder that every shift, no matter how grand, begins within. The heavens facilitate; we align.

الفطرة اكادمي

22/11/2025

😇🌹

22/11/2025

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