On a path
It is about belief in
the Love of God
November 11, 2003
The Iranian I was trying to get some Muslims I know get
together for eftar, breaking fast at the end of the day during
Ramazan. Hoping that it wasn't too last minute, I made a few quick
phone calls
and thought
about
what
I
would cook.
So, on the way to Wal-Mart, as I made a right turn out of the university,
I slammed into a car. It was totally my fault, I wasn't
paying attention, and I didn't see her. All I could think
was "khodamo cheshm zadam!"
A couple of weeks back I had thought how happy I was that it had
been almost two years since my last ticket and my driving record
would be clean soon.
The
police officer, as if I had intentionally caused an accident, handed
me the $250 ticket with a stern look.
It startled me, I was shook up a little, but after I called my
sister to cry and heard my little niece's voice saying, "I
wuv you, I mees you, don cwy," I felt much better.
No one
got hurt and that was the most important thing. An image ran across
my mind. It's a story in a Rumi poem where Prophet Mohammad
goes to put on his boot and an eagle snatches it away. His initial
reaction was to curse the eagle, and then he noticed that the eagle
held the boot upside down and a snake fell out. The Prophet thanked
him, saying that what he first thought was a misfortune, was really
a blessing. In a really weird way, and I have no idea why, I think
the accident was a blessing.
A sense of peace came over me. I got home and started cooking,
completely happy, as if the accident hadn't even happened
(I'm sure I'll remember that it happened when my
insurance company calls). Everyone was late, in true Middle Eastern
fashion, but there was a good turn out and I was hoping that my
first eftar-hosting venture would be a success. I've been
having many firsts lately. This is my first time
really celebrating Ramadan and reaching this point in my life has
been an intricate journey.
I've struggled with the issue of religion for a long time
and been repelled by fear-based ideologies which I have
been exposed. It's quite amusing actually. My first semester
of college, I went to Baptist Student Union gatherings, and now,
in my last semester I'm hosting eftar. All along, it has
been a search for meaning, for something that makes sense to
me.
Sitting there, talking with my guests about what it meant to
be
Muslim, and praying as a group, I felt euphoric. Not because
I think I have found the one and only path, not because I think
I have reached the end of my journey for Truth in any stretch
of the imagination, but because I feel I am on a path.
For
so long, I'd been responding to anyone who asked what religion
I was that I just believed in being close to God,
whichever way that was for each person. I discovered about myself,
that
I was saying I just wanted to be close to God, but I wasn't
doing anything about it consistently. I wasn't seeking a
way since I figured if you have the right intention, then any
path could be the right one.
I felt uneasy picking any particular
path because I felt as if choosing one, was disqualifying
all the
others and separating myself from other people. I felt
like having to choose a religion was like putting myself into a
category
for the sake of others, so that they could have ideas about
me
and
define me. We humans love to categorize things, and make
everything fit into nice neat little boxes, it makes it easier
to deal
with the complexity of life. I was defying the notion that
I had to
compartmentalize myself. One day I was feeling a little down so I went running and completely
involuntarily, tears started rolling down my cheeks. It was
as if each step I took squeezed them out of my body, releasing
the
anguish inside. I got it all out, and I started thinking
very clearly, like an outside force was guiding my thoughts. I
wondered,
what
am I afraid of? And the answer, as transparent as glass,
popped into my head.
I was afraid of my ability to control my emotions
and feelings. I realized that what scares me is not the
trying events or circumstances which inevitably arise,
but my reaction
to those events. As if a light bulb suddenly turned on,
I understood
that the things I fear most are actually the only things
in this world that I do have control over, my mental, my emotional
and
my spiritual state.
The beauty of namaz, Muslim prayer, for me, is this:
five times a day, no matter what frame of mind you are
in, you
strive
to
clear
away all the
clutter that occupies your thoughts, and focus on God.
It's not easy, it requires great discipline, and it does not always
feel fulfilling right at that moment. It is an ingenious
practice that trains you to control your mental state.
I
look at it
like an aim and each time I pray I am striving to hit
the target. I might be worrying about a test I have tomorrow,
and miss
to
the
right; or I'm thinking about something a friend said
and
miss to the left; but once in a while, in those times
when I am totally and fully conscientious, I achieve my
objective,
and
it
is really powerful.
The day I realized my greatest fear, I made a decision. I chose
this path as the tool to help me toward where I say I want to
go, towards God. In order to get to Truth, you have to get over
yourself,
and the material illusion of this world. This is what fasting
and praying is all about, being empty of physical nourishment,
clearing
your mind of all thoughts, so that you may be spiritually nourished.
It is not about religion for me. It is not about an ideology
or a set of rules and regulations and I do not believe in imposing
the fear of hell in order to control. How other people categorize
me and the standards by which they choose to judge me, are
not my problem. It is not about what anybody else thinks,
it is about
me, and it is about my own personal journey.
It is about rising above the nafs, killing the
lower self, in order to cultivate inner peace. About belief
in the Love of God,
which
is infinitely beyond my understanding, yet I strive to wrap my
mind around the concept. And about the conviction that this life
is not all there is. There is something, some force out there
that is outside the reach of my grasp, but I am a part of it, and
each
day I struggle to remain aware of it despite my earthly confines.
I am but a spec of dust in a desert, trying to find meaning and
purpose in the midst of billions of other specs just like me.
Although,
think how amazing it is, just think how utterly beautiful
it is,
that you and I, specs of dust, can be filled with the Light
of God, and be a part of the delicate crystal glass vase
that holds
his myriad of flowers.
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