I prefer dawns over sunsets, but I cannot deny their equal beauty. Sometimes the night calls, even people who have nothing to do with it. I was raised on sunshine, I never knew any darkness until it bit me and swallowed in one gulp. Eventually, I was spit out. Turns out, it had no taste for me.
Sometimes, very rarely, after about 6 pm, I get an urge to go out. And usually, something serendipitous happens. It really feels like it was God’s hand that pulled me out, rushed me into something I could never foresee for myself.
I wouldn’t bring this up in a philosophy tutorial, but some of these experiences are personal proofs for God’s existence. How can you experience fate so forcefully and still deny the order and intellect that has power over everything, a Being whose knowledge encompasses even the tiniest and most insignificant thing, whose beneficence is shown to even the most undeserving? Sometimes I find myself in a place that seemingly had nothing to do with me, was so out of my usual habits, but turned out to be in service of someone who needed it. Then it becomes obvious, very briefly, that God puts us where He wants us. Sometimes even drags us there.
How not to shut this door? I think some trust in intuition and and certain openness to new experiences are necessary. Also a dose of spontaneity. Barakah disappears from carefully measured and calculated things, including time. Our days are so tightly scheduled, it is so weird to remember that clocks only became part of daily life after the Industrial Revolution. They virtually rule our world now. All this is while our attention is called on by so many things, and there is such demand for our time. The usual advice is appropriate here: clear out the mess and distractions, let the blessings flow into your life with unimaginable generosity.
Maybe one day I will write about these nights. For now, suffice it to say, they have been magical. Only if we could still have the ability to wonder in this modern world, we would recognise these moments as the miracles they truly are.
rana the reader 