Sunday, January 15, 2017

The Gift

I have known for a long time that islamic prayer does something to me that is as mysterious as it is powerful. It started with pouring my heart out at the mosque, finding comfort simply in prostrating and laying my hands and forehead on the carpet and my chest on my knees.
Then one day I found the " carpet" responding to me, filling me with a new love and energy.
Some years later it reached the next level, mystery.
And now I have become this closet Muslim ( and unknown sufi , after joining a tariqa) who surreptitiously performs her prayers and wazifas in coffeeshops and other places when not at the mosque, silently breathing the names of Allah while pretending to be asleep or wearing earphones in lieu of earplugs to provide a simple explanation to people why I am sitting with closed eyes in front of my tablet.
These exercises have become an instrument to transport me into a different space when I am not physically traveling.
Out of here, into a world of tranquility and peace where I breathe out pain and negativity and inhale bliss and serenity. A new switch has been installed in my mind that can be flicked to "off", "discharge unneeded matter" , "maintenance " , " reset" and "charge with more light". Forgive me for using all these electronic metaphors , for the details one needs the experience.
Subhanallah.





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