Relief is only but near...

It was cold and raining. Even though one tends to looks forward to these sudden and 'freezing' conditions after nine months of intense sunshine, or rather, sweltering humidity and heat, it did look kind of grim outside. It was cloudy and the sun was just setting and to top it off I was told that our whole building at home had a power cut. There was no indication that it would be fixed tonight. My car was away at service so I also had no comfortable means of transportation. As the car I finally got into weaved its way in and out of traffic I was getting used to the idea of studying and living it off on candlelight for the night. Surely it can't be that hard. After all it's only a few hours. What about those the world over who don't have the luxury of electricty! My thoughts went to those in Gaza. Images flashed through my mind of the destruction and horrors there. Oh what luxuries we seem not to be able to do without.

I finally got home but that was only half the journey. Ten flights of stairs waited for me in pitch darkness, save for a few tealights that someone had kindly placed at the corner of each of the floor landings. Fitness is indeed a hidden blessing 'in times like these'.

It wasn't really something worth fussing about but being used to something for so long can really let you take it for granted. It was cold and I was dying for a cup of cocoa or even better a steaming bowl of soup. I couldn't heat up my soup in the microwave. No, I would have to use the stove, and it's a good thing we use gas and not electricity! Going to the bathroom in candlelight was interesting. It's just like being at the spa I kept telling myself. No tv, no radio, no entertainment, no Internet even, no communication. All that just because of a simple power cut? I guess there can be no other means of procratination and I have to succumb to making the acquaintance of my fat books.

In all seriousness and as I found myself praying the maghreb prayers and getting more and more used to my current situation, it was a case of inner acceptance. Acceptance and learning to be resourceful with what you have. I found my thoughts wandering again to those in Gaza - perhaps because the events are all still fresh in everyone's minds. Still, this was not only about those suffering in Gaza. It was about all those who have suffered at various times. Here I was trying to make do with a few hours without electricity - God forbid - when the people of Gaza and thousands if not millions the world over have no clean water, no proper toilet facilities, no switch that automatically gives them unlimited volts of light, no food, no home, no security, no warmth, none of the basics that we all take for granted day in, day out. It was humbling. There I was fussing about how I will be heating my soup, all snuggled up in my warm blanket when there are children at that moment without mothers to snuggle up to or shelters to protect them. I felt small and insignificant, ungrateful and spoilt. It was a case of pure acceptance and acknowledgment.

Suddenly and even before I had completed my last rak'a I was rudely interrupted by the healthy sound of the energy running through all the lightbulbs in the house. The power fault was fixed! I was only just getting comfortable with the idea of feeling a fraction of a percentage of perhaps what others experience on a daily basis. I was still on the prayer mat and it was a moment of graitude and another different sort of ackowledgment.

"So verily, with the hardship, there is relief ** Verily, with the hardship, there is relief (i.e. there is one hardship with two reliefs, so one hardship cannot overcome two reliefs)." [94:5-6]

It is only with strength of conviction coupled with a deep acceptance, acknowledgment and solid, silent patience will relief come rushing through. I knew and felt this. This then is the answer to everything. All the hardships and all the difficult times that hit us from time to time. Gaza and Palestine will find relief and all those who can find it in their heart to weigh that fine balance will find relief too.

kaleidoscope

Every once in a while, you get to see a snapshot of the true magnitude of life. It varies. You could be utterly happy all the time or profoundly sad. Yet, the snapshot only allows you to see a raw truth; the reality of life.

We are lonely creatures. We are surrounded by people to keep us company in our journey through life but everything is temporary. People surrounding us are temporary. We always return to the honest snapshot, that the origin of all things is loneliness. Adam was created lonely. Eve came along to combat his loneliness. It seems that our innate strife is to continue combatting that loneliness for as long as we live. Whatever way or form, we try and keep the shadow of loneliness away from our front doors, back doors and any nooks it might seep through.

Along with an extreme fear of loneliness comes deception. In more than one way, it is another honest snapshot of life. The subtlest of all forms is self-deception. We are all guilty of it at one point of our lives or another. Creating bubbles for ourselves to live the life we seek. We truly believe the life we lead to be real and wholesome or even if unhappy we strive to create a comfort level that makes us feel satisfied. Others who know us and even those who do not, believe it. We unconsciously exude an aura of self-deception. Only God can see through to the truth and once in a while He lets us see that honest and raw snapshot of our lives.

The origin is loneliness. We have no one but Him in reality. We may comfort ourselves through deceptive means but sooner or later all things fall apart. Only then will He make us see that we truly have no one but Him.

Three Encounters with Death

In the past couple of days, I witnessed three different encounters with Death. First, an accident that took the life of a young man in seconds, then the sudden death of an infant who choked while she was eating, and finally the death of an old man who died on his bed. Despite its different forms and disguises, death remains as the last visitor who does not fail to come to all, each at a time, in one way or another.

I wonder how my visit will be like? Unnoticed, in a blink of an eye like that young man, without a chance to say some last few words or witness in the Oneness of the Lord one last time... or suddenly after an innocent smile like that young girl, or expectantly after long long years on a cold bed like the old man...? In which state shall I meet my visitor? I wish I could be as innocent as that infant who has nothing to worry about, passing unstained. Will I have someone to pray for me, or I will be forgotten too soon as it is the pattern of life these days..?

It was time to stop for a minute and think about my position in life, where I am, what I have left behind, and what lies ahead. It is important to pause the hectic life for just a little and weigh who we are and how we are dealing with the precious gift of life, and above all, how prepared we are for the real encounter with death. While I guess it is impossible to be prepared, yet chances are born for us everyday to correct our mistakes and learn from them. Doors of light are everywhere, and darkness can always fade away and be left behind. If we only stop and think, if we seize to forget that we are not here to stay, we would not waste so many of our chances to be better people.

I hope not to be afraid when my visitor comes. I pray for an end of faith that can be a new beginning of a life without fear or pain or misery. I pray for a safe encounter, where I don't have to worry about what lies ahead.

An Enveloping Haze

A common thread.
I had been sitting on the train for quite a while and watched as it stopped at each station. People would get off and new ones would take their places; standing, sitting. I watched their faces and gazed at their features. The skin tones, hair colours and face shapes were different every single time. Even if the physicalities seemed similar, their mannerisms and attitudes distinguished them from each other. There were those with soft features that you felt comfortable looking at. Reading a book or just gazing out of the windows, turning heads as people walked past and the expressions changed but their faces were still comforting to look at. There were others with stern expressions that softened as they were lured into conversation, a neighbouring passenger asking for the time or checking what the next stop was. There were others with neutral or frozen faces that avoided reaction to anything. They appeared to be in another world but if you looked closer and closer still you could always see a hint of a thought or two swimming across their faces and you could feel their vibes. Numerous faces and numerous expressions and no two were ever alike.

Then I turned to look at myself watching people within. How different we all seem yet how similar we truly are. As I shifted my gaze from one face to the other I suddenly saw all the differences melt away. It did not seem to matter anymore who I was sitting next to or across from, we were all part of the bond of humanity. The same origin and the same end, we are joined together by living in the same universe, the same solar system and on the same planet. We breathe the same air, drink the same water and it does not matter where or how we happen to find it. Here we are in a train and we are all strangers to one another yet we are bound together by the common thread of humanity.

Similarity. Scene change...
I am watching tv and they're showing the Muslim pilgrims in Mecca. The camera is zoomed out and I can see what seems like a vast sea of white gathered in the shape of huge concentric discs. Rotating, ever so slowly, the way a huge disc rotates around a common axis, the concentric discs of white were circumbulating a central black structure; the kaaba (representing the House of God). The camera zooms in and you realise that the sea of white is made up of people. Unique and individual people, they were all dressed in pieces of white cloth. I can see their faces and expressions now and as I had previously watched and gazed on the train, I found myself easily transcending the barriers. The skin tones, the hair colours, even the mannerisms were instantly transparent to me. Here the expressions were all speaking the same emotion. The uniqueness within each individual was let loose within the freedom of similiarity. There was no apparent prejudice here; the faces said it all. Even their attire said it all.

Inner beauty. Scene change...
A friend is sitting at work talking to her colleagues. It has been a year now since she started working here. I think back then and look at the situation now. What a transformation! There they are sitting and talking like old buddies, yet a year ago this would not have been conceivable. There were the polite formalities, the necessary work discussions but a huge number of human barriers. An uneasiness that manifested itself in an over-polite attitude that kept at bay any indication that she would try to fit into the team. Yet the combination of patience, some gentle perserverance and strength finally broke the barriers down and prejudice walked out of the door. It did not seem to matter where she was from, what she was wearing anymore or what her background was. All they could see now was the beauty that made her unique; the same way she had seen it in them all along.

Was everyone on the train, in the pilgrimage or at that workplace conscious of that common thread, of our similarity and of our unique inner beauty? Better still, does everyone in the world realise this? Prejudice continues to draw a haze across eyes and continues to blind minds to that fact. Some often find themselves enlarging the differences and playing down the similarities. Maybe it is more interesting that way. Nevertheless, what happens in essence is that the beauty within others is missed out on. That piece of uniqueness has been attacked time and time over in the name of prejudice.

Being a woman

Not only am I a woman; I am a Muslim woman wearing hijab. Oh, and top that with the fact that I live in the West; i.e. stereotyped as helpless, dull and a “poor thing”! For most people, I do not even exist. I am a covered lump of nothingness that is easily ignored by those who don’t care, easily overlooked by those who define women “differently” and simply smiled at by the kind who do not know how to handle what came their way. And mad I am when people turn their heads when they hear me speak. Mad I am when they raise their eyebrows at my “fancy words” and eloquent style. Mad I get when the bus driver graciously lowers the floor of the bus to allow easier entry whenever I ride it, like s/he does with senior citizens, greeting me with a “ma’am”! Do I look that old simply because I am covered up? I think that got into me to the point that I now wonder sometimes at my own agile walk that does not match my “modest” appearance.

Like all women, I am bombarded with commercials that define beauty differently depending on the season. So, the burning hot colors and styles of the summer are “out” now and “in” is the 60s look this winter, of short dresses and cool shades! The pretty and digitally brushed-to-perfection faces on the covers of Beauty Magazines sneer at me as I drag myself, as if ashamed, to the checkout lines at grocery stores. Insecure young women are all around me; craving for acceptance, covering their faces with layers of make up, and piercing their ears, noses and God knows what, to simply belong to the cult of young and cool. A lady in my thirties myself and more than a decade older than my young colleagues, I see them now on daily basis. I cannot match their, “like, totally awesome, like, seriously super” upbeat rhythm, so I watch them trying to understand. I find myself most of the time unable to grasp the paradox of watching how tough, smart and reliable they are, yet how they fall for that snare of fashion and appearances in spite of it. I wonder though what they say when they see my washed clean face and my plain long and un-trendy outfits. Well, I know how I feel as I watch them. I too adore perfumes and scented lotions, but know that I cannot wear that around strangers. I too know how to wear make up beautifully matching my skin tones. I too take good care of my hair and color it occasionally; the way I like and not necessarily following a certain style. I too, used to walk around with my jeans and tennis shoes and add a formal jacket to that as I enter my classes as the then-fresh young instructor. But it was my decision to wear hijab; a difficult decision it certainly was to one that is very self-conscious of how she looks, to one always assumed to look younger than she really was. Hijab now, adds long years to my look and I acknowledge that and see it in the eyes of everyone. A struggle it is indeed to walk around in a world of plastic surgeries, millions-of-dollars cosmetic industry and a general tendency to overlook anything but the pretty, young and “bling-bling” rich.

But in time, I learned to live with that till I was taken aback by the one looking back at me today!

Who was that in that long unflattering mirror? To whom did that reflection belong? What’s that complexion? That would-be wrinkle screamed out loud at me. That “un-complimenting” outfit I tried on regretfully said the truth and nothing but the truth. You are getting old! It is true that a genuine smile of yours may obliterate years from that look and that the shine in your eyes reveals who you truly are, but what shine or smile are you talking about now in that silencing gloom? What looks are you talking about when you walk around defeated with your stooped shoulders and dismayed eyes?

On I walked fumbling for recognition. I could not find that in the eyes of the only one whom I can seek attention from. It is not fair though to expect the reassuring and satisfying attention you need from the whole world to come from only one man. This is too much to ask; especially with that restless, demanding and anxious attitude of yours. Insecurity charges up in you the worst of attacks. That frustration has to burst out one way or the other making me not only old and unattractive, but also intolerable!

Why am I still wearing hijab then? Why not free myself from all those shackles and simply be! Why not have breeze fly my hair away and carry my perfume everywhere?

I can’t.

I simply don’t want to.

I am holding on to my hijab now more than ever and with the same tenacity.

Unconsciously, I went tonight in pursuit of that recognition. Reached out to loved ones, but it so happened that no one was there to the rescue. Someone had to pick up the shattered pieces of my self-image. But no one was there.

When I first decided to wear hijab, it seemed like the logical thing to do. Nothing seemed to make me happy anymore and as I gradually got sick from the superficiality of the surrounding unfulfilling pleasures, I wanted to tend to the soul that was deserted and left behind. Though a born Muslim, I have always practiced Islam out of habit and hence praying for example was void of meaning or touching significance. I knew that peace was in the true spirit of Islam, but like a fish out of water, I gaped for air through a hand that leads me to the Islam that speaks to both my heart and mind. I was not the one to be intimidated and scared by the familiar clichés of torture and Hellfire. I was not the one to be led around by dos and don’ts. I needed the comfort of knowing that I am loved and accepted by a merciful most kind and generous Lord that would take me the way I am, get out the best in me with His guidance, and clear my soul with His forgiveness from the harm I have done to myself. I needed the light that tells me where I am in the universe and what I am meant here to do. That blend of who I am must be here and now for a reason. I must be equipped with what I know and what I am still to dig up to make a change. Thus, I needed to surrender my whole being to God and His decrees; and that I did by striving to be a true Muslim since the word “Islam” means surrendering to the Lord. Wearing hijab was one of those decrees that felt right then. Yet, little did I know that it will take me years to understand what hijab really is.

On my way back home today, I could not leave that image I saw in the mirror behind. It remained there on my mind; with silent tears on my face. How do I really look like now; with or without hijab? Is there anything to stop the crawling years? And what if I am now old? What kind of recognition and attention do I really want, and why? Where and what is beauty? Why should I seek it in the eyes of the beholder in the first place? If I am born to be a rebel and refuse to be enslaved by those who dictate to me how I should look, walk and talk, why am I defining myself by the rules of others, any others, friends or strangers? How can I respect anyone that treats me any differently because of my mere looks, good or bad? With my hijab I simply look to such people in the eye and challenge their integrity as if saying, now that this woman is trying very hard to look the least attractive possible, how are you to judge her?

I am a human being. That was the answer. I am a free human being not to be judged or chained by meaningless ever-changing rules. Why should I be treated differently if I am a woman? Isn’t this the ultimate empowerment a woman can have when she is freed from the discrimination or privilege she is granted or denied based on how she looks? Isn’t it true slavery to “grease my way up in this sleazy corporate world”, a term I literally heard myself few days ago, or being taken advantage of and harassed because of the fact that I am a woman? This is where hijab comes in compellingly.

In Arabic the word hijab means barrier; and barrier it is indeed if it protects me from others and from my own nature of competing with other females on daily basis for a beauty trophy or trying to attain power through others. I always say, “I never have a bad hair day!” Nothing will simply stop me from getting what I want unless I do not have it in me to get it. So it is all about me, not about what others think or decide that I deserve. It is THE true power that a woman like me would not forsake. The kind of discipline that takes me away from whatever may defuse this bursting energy and keeps me focused instead, time and effort wise, on what really counts.

IT takes no time for me at all to have others see beyond that hijab. I give them the permission to touch the human being inside without touching the outer shape. I do not need their recognition or acceptance; they don’t have to. Yet it makes them comfortable to understand that the one under that cover is a smart tough cookie!

And the natural feminine need to look and feel pretty? I am not denied that. I got that in the comfort and convenience of my home surrounded by my close family. I am a human being, a round character, and my religion addresses my needs as well as regulates them in a way that is very logical and reasonable. It makes sense here that the decree that I willingly followed then was sent by the Lord that created us and knows about our natures. He knows about our weaknesses and hence He is helping us not to fall victim for that and thus lead balanced and productive lives. It makes perfect sense to start looking at hijab that way and outsmart the media that hammered on “the oppression that helpless Muslim women are subject to”; a concept that comes to our minds if and when we stop and notice a woman with hijab.

What difference does it make how I look; how I polish my nails, wear my make up or pluck my eyebrows? If I die right this minute, it is my words, deeds, and how I contributed in the lives of those around, that I am leaving behind; everything else is finite and of no true significance.

The Reason for Living

I listened today to John Denver's famous song 'For you', let me quote some lines..

Just a reason for living
Just to say I adore
Just to know that you're here in my heart to stay
For you for the rest of my life, all the best of my life.. For you alone, only for you.

I felt how futile it would be if you hold someone as the reason for living, how empty your life would be when they are gone and we are all leaving in a way or another. It is very shortsighted, even if it is the love of a lifetime, to corner one's entire being in only one aspect of life, even if it is so beautiful, leaving out the rest of the abundance there is to enjoy. Life would turn into a constant nightmare, without a reason to live for.

My Lord, You are the Reason that is worth living for. You are the Motive behind every good thing.You are the Eternal Beauty. You are the only Truth that keeps me warm and safe. The benevolent gestures You kindly put in my way, the small beauties here and there, the abundant forms of Your affection, I will not let go of them. Yet, I will not allow them blind me and falsely fill up my senses. I will not forget that You gave me this beauty because of Your own Kindness.. Let me always remember; You are the One I will never lose.

You are my Companion in my journey

Got the phone call. This is the day I have feared for so long. Mute was I when grief’s somber shawl started to slowly creep over me. Unable to comprehend the unimaginable loss, I sat back thinking of everything else in denial. It was my brother’s grave voice that let loose all my tear-demons. He is our rock now.

So my father was being buried under the ground. My true old friend, my very first fan, the one who watched with wonder in his eyes how his little bud gradually blossom into who I am right now, the one who took my hand in his big warm hands and showed me the way to worlds of beauty and sophistication. Still, I was not falling apart like I thought I would. I calmly arranged for my flight back home to be where I belong; with my grief-stricken family.

My fingers typed the words “my father passed away” to my dear ones, and then rushed to hide my face and cover my weary eyes. Then the memories rushed along. The last time I heard his voice, the last thing he said, the last time I saw him, and many more; each snatching a piece of my heart and throwing it in the abyss of what is now bygone. It was simply incomprehensible to take away from the picture of my taken-for-granted world a man that was full of life, thought and humor. That was the day after which life ceased to be the same.

Torn between leaving my children and running to the unknown, I felt the burning tears streaming down as I turned around to face the flight’s gate. Forlorn on my seat on that cold bitter birthday, I felt like a stranger in this world. No sadly setting sun in the far beyond or cotton-candy cloud clusters in the burgundy dusk could solace me. I then read my traveling prayer,

“O Allah, You are the Companion in the journey and the substitute in the family. O Allah, I seek refuge with You from the hardship of the journey and from returning to sorrow and a distressing sight or finding family and possessions in a poor state”.

Indeed, He was my Companion.

Take my hand now my Lord. Do pat gently on my hollow heart and overwhelm me with your mercy. Between heaven and earth, I felt like a whirling feather, restless and unaware where the blowing wind would land me. You are my Companion now. Take care of me now. I am suddenly the insecure child raising her hands looking for the safe shore of her father’s tenderness and compassion.

It felt like forever before my third and last plane touched down. My heart beats were racing the plane’s speed and my anticipation left me breathless and drained. It was my father that used to wait for me and welcome me with his rich sweet embrace that used to take all my pain away. He won’t be there this time. Waiting in the long-dreary line-ups, I couldn’t help looking for his loving face among the many faces around me. I felt that he was somehow there. I even swear that I heard his voice calling my name from the distance that I actually turned around where I thought the voice came from; but of course, there was nothing. I could not find him.

But He was there watching over me as if saying, “Even though he isn’t there this time, I am here for you.” God sent my way complete strangers that to my amazement picked me out of the crowd and helped me get everything done as smoothly as it can ever be possible. How merciful are you my Lord, how gracious!

And out of the airport, I stepped to find my mother’s serene smile waiting for me. “It’s ok… It’s ok”, she repeated. Then I sank in the home of her stretched arms again.

I knew that I did just the right thing going there when I looked at my sibling’s faces. The suddenly stranded islands were trying to snuggle closer. They were as solid as mountains enduring the pain yet as tender as babies cuddling together. No tears were allowed; only laughter and smiles, the way he liked it most. Only beautiful memories were to be shared. Painful ones were locked up in denial until the hearts were strong again to go through them. Devastated as they were, they stood tall and strong greeting mourning visitors with a smile, yielding to the loss with fortitude. I just could not be more proud of them.

Accompanied by some of my family members I went to visit his grave, or the way I prefer to put it, “visit him”. The ones around were there before me when it all took place, but it was my first time. I stood there unable to fully take in how my father was under that stone. I asked to be left alone with him. I was his eldest daughter. I was also the one who lived farthest and thus, I was denied to be there like all others at his last moments. I had a gnawing urge to talk to him. My wish was respected and granted and I sat on the ground next to him and poured my heart out to him. I asked him to be proud of his family who loved him so dearly that they did not break for his leave to show him how well he raised us up and what a great man he was. I said that I know that I was the one who has to cross oceans and thousands of miles to come visit him but I could still be the closest talking to him endlessly and asking God to grant him mercy. I said that I somehow could not, and still can’t, imagine a life without him in it; yet I knew that he was still there. And on I went and each time I got up to turn around and walk away, I was crippled with the harsh awareness that I would walk away an orphan! But I had to eventually go away just like life goes on. I saw in the distance my brother watching me from afar fearing that I might pass out, out of my deep silent grief. I rushed to him and asked him to hold me tight for at that moment I just needed that so.

But what is it that kept us intact instead of being crushed before this sudden death? It is God’s mercy and overwhelming kindness. We are asked to endure the loss of loved ones especially at the first shocking moments. It takes no hard work on our part; it is rather a blessing of mercy that we either accept or kick away to take the easy way out and remain absorbed in pain. Yet, death will remain our wake-up call of how short and empty life is and how futile it is to waste time, energy as well as all the blessings we are endowed with that make us better people. Only those who swallow the pain and go on are the ones who know how harsh it is, though rewarding, to yield and accept God’s decree. God says in Qur’ān, “And in case you are patient and pious, then surely that is (an indication) of (true) resolve concerning His (i.e. the Commands of Allah) Commands.” (Ala-`Imrān, 3: 186)

No pain or grief should bring you to your knees. Every test is meant to have you stronger should you choose to make it in spite of it all. Remember your Companion, accept what He brings your way turning every hurdle into a stepping stone to be worthy of His endless mercy that we cannot do without.

Pain

In the hustle and bustle of our everyday lives, we often fail to maintain our well being. We keep running into the maze of endless duties and deadlines, expecting no setbacks or delays. A headache, an aching back or irritated eyes, a skin inflammation or ear pain are usually the least expected and most detested. Who has time for that! Once we are hit by any of that, we rush to pain relievers to be able to go back to what we have to get done with. But have we ever stopped and thought about the blessing of pain?

Yes, pain is always there for a reason. It is the flashing light that something is wrong and that it is high time we attended to that instead of taking the easy way out silencing it. It is usually a sign that we have been careless in safeguarding our health or defense system.

Imagine a life without pain; a condition that actually exists in some children called congenital insensitivity to pain (or congenital analgia) where a child cannot feel (and has never felt) physical pain. Isn’t that the dream of every parent; save his/her child from ever feeling any pain? Well, here is a wake up call for you. When a child cannot feel pain, they may not respond to problems, thus being at a higher risk of more severe diseases. It is documented that such children often suffer fractures to bones, unnoticed infections, etc. Talk about life without pain!

What about our hearts? What does it say when our hearts ache. What is it really then when nothing seems to please us anymore, when we keep swirling in restlessness and agitation. Do we ever pay attention to our hearts trying to listen to their pain in order to heal them? How can’t we give our hearts our utmost attention when the word “heart” was mentioned 158 times in the Qur’aan?

Heartaches are a cry out loud for us to correct misleading frames of thoughts and unhealthy behavior. It is a call for us to retrace our steps to see what went wrong. It is the indication that it is time to seek guidance and help from our All-Merciful Lord.

Be it people who hurt us, our unsatiated thirst for contetment, our unfulfilled aspirations or hopes, all roads should lead us to one Ultimate Destination. He is always there to heal our pain and take us in spite of what He knows about us. He never forsakes us when we seek His help. He is always there to purify our hearts and keep them steadfast; always there waiting for our repentance to forgive and cleanse us from our sins. Where else can we ever go when we are blessed with the pain that takes us back to the pleasure of being with Him?

My beautiful night

Couldn’t sleep. Was restless and fidgety. Got tired of it all. Of people and places, of obligations and sham forced smiles, of that very fake light coming from my lamp and from that screen that I hang to. I want to be there, out there. I want to inhale fresh air, not one dim with old worn breaths. I want my own privacy and solitude that I hold on to religiously. And there I went. Opened the door and stepped with my bare feet on the cool floor of my patio. It overlooks a beautiful open space of full-grown trees that circle a wadding pool of water with a fountain of bricks on the side that looks and sounds like a water fall. The pool was empty tonight, and the fountain was off, but that did not take away from the natural beauty I was after. My patio is in a corner that no one would notice and I sat on one of the chairs there extending my legs on an opposite one and surrendering to my lulling ambiance. I laid my head back and watched the sky. Wasn’t a starry night for sure but you cannot help loving the different shades of grey that huddled together to take my breath away as they defined splendor in the way they kept the fading daylight safe at heart. They gradually gave away for darkness to take over and kiss goodnight the eyes of the weary and the hearts of the anguished. It wasn’t a sigh. I was just saying it all to the night without uttering a word. I know that it is gentle enough to listen and understand. The trees were still, in awe of their long awaited for friend. The night always comes back to enfold them in its overwhelming soft dark shawl. Their deep delight with the reassuring company was serene. But it’s the tree tops that could not help showing their happiness, and softly swayed with pleasure. I tried to clear my mind from all the clutter and think through my dilemma, but it didn’t take the stillness of the night long to seep into my heart, pat it gently and smooth it with peace. I tried to resist the urge to go and touch the tree that was a few steps away. But the night simply took my hand and I followed the soft call. That bark of the tree was very rough, lined with years and years of withstanding the harshness of the elements. But I could not respect that tree more; to stand tall in spite of it all. To keep giving no matter how long the snow covered it or the piercing sun rays poked it. It was there, beautifully there. And on I paced slowly. I smiled to the coolness of the damp rich grass caressing my wandering steps. I was welcomed by the sweet scent of a pine tree that I came across. I drifted into the silence, closed my eyes to absorb it and vanish in it. I was one with nature at last. I felt lucky to be bestowed all this exquisiteness from a Merciful Lord that surrounds us with wonders that tickle the senses of the lucky few who keep their hearts alert to what really matters in this short life.