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إذا كان الوضع الذي ساد في عالم الإسلام لترتيب العلاقة بين العقل والنقل; وأعني بالكيفية التي ظل معها العقل تابعا لسلطة النقل علي نحو شبه كامل, هو ما يؤسس لهذا التصور الغالب عن قصور العقل واحتياجه, فإن أصل هذا الوضع لا يرتد- علي عكس ما يتبادر سريعا للذهن- إلي الإسلام نفسه, بل إنه يجد ما يؤسسه كاملا في قلب الثقافة السابقة عليه, والتي يبدو- وللمفارقة- أن الإسلام قد قصد إلي زحزحة وإزاحة نظامها الكلي, علي الرغم من إدماجه لبعض عناصرها الجزئية في صميم بنائه. فإنه إذا كان التحليل يكشف عن أن من قاموا علي صياغة التيار الغالب في ثقافة الإسلام( الذين يتناسلون في سلالة ممتدة من علماء الأصول الكبار من مثل الشافعي وابن حنبل والأشعري والباقلاني والجويني والغزالي وابن تيمية وغيرهم) قد كرسوا تبعية- تتفاوت حدودها- من العقل للنقل, فإنه يبدو- وللغرابة- أن الترتيب الذي كرسه هؤلاء المؤسسون الكبار للعلاقة بين العقل والنقل, يمثل انحرافا عن ترتيب العلاقة بينهما الذي ينبني عليه فعل الوحي ذاته; وهو الفعل المؤسس للإسلام كدين. ↗
V smiled, his eyes a little shiny as if he too were choked up. "Don't worry, I'm covered. So, I guess you're back, true?" "And ready to rock and roll." "Really." "For sure. I'm thinking about a future in contracting. Wanted to see how this bathroom was put together. Excellent tile work. You should check it." "How about I carry you back to bed?" "I want to look at the sink pipes next." Respect and affection clearly drove V's cool smirk. "At least let me help you up." "Nah, I can do it." With a groan, Butch gave the vertical move a shot, but then eased back down onto the tile. Turned out his head was a little overwhelming. But if they left him here long enough-a week, maybe ten days? "Come on, cop. Cry uncle here and let me help." Butch was suddenly too tired to front. As he went totally limp, he was aware of Marissa staring at him and thought, man, could he look any weaker? Shit, the only saving grace was there wasn't a cold breeze on his butt. Which suggested the hospital gown had stayed closed. Thank you, God. ↗
#black-dagger-brotherhood #butch #j-r-ward #lover-revealed #marissa
In order to survive, we cling to all we know and understand. And label it reality. But knowledge and understanding are ambiguous. That reality could be an illusion. All humans live with the wrong assumptions. Isn't that another way of looking at it? That sharingan how much can you really se? ↗
Raziel’s sixty feet tall?” “Actually, he’s only fifty-nine feet tall, but he likes to exaggerate,” said Magnus. Isabelle clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Valentine raised an angel in his cellar. I don’t see why you need all this space—” “Because Valentine is just WAY MORE AWESOME than me, ↗
She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone. "Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!" Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him." Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?" "Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them." 'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!" "You bet it does," Clary said. ↗
