There are moments when I fret myself to the point of insanity about sticky situations that pop up in life. I'm sure many of us do. Over-think until the decision tree we're drawing in our head grows enough branches to bring it all tumbling down. The broken branches stick around, rot in the corners of my brain, serve no purpose except stopping me from enjoying anything else.
But on other, wiser moments, all it takes is a whispered 'I trust in You' and the worries fade. My view clears. It is almost like, dare I say, God grants me a tiny percentage of His vision. The peephole I view the world through widens, just a weeny bit, and I see the universe in its enormity, the insignificance of all of our problems at work and home, the incredible abundance of talk, talk, empty talk. And I leave it to God. It always works out. In a way so beautiful and intricately-woven that caters to everyone that only the All-encompassing, Perfect One could have been behind it. I want to always be aware of it- Your serenity.
Oh God. Don't leave me in the hands of my own unreliable self. I am Yours. Don't give my self back to me.
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God's existence is the most audible. I hear it from my bedroom window at the break of each dawn: here is another day brought to us- every piece and element that makes part of it sings His praises. I hear it in my cousin's four-year-old's laughs and clever questions, in my mother's concerned expressions. I heard it that day, loud and clear, in the way we huddled up in the cosy coffee-shop, energized and united by a single passion. Notice the glint in the eyes of a person doing great at what they love to do and you will know that at some point, everyone is a believer.
Rumi's father had an interesting conversation with Him. I read it in The Drowned Book and folded down the page's corner, just because I felt I had to give that particular beautiful excerpt some special attention. Bahauddin prayed that his search for God be made more energetic. The answer came: Your bones and skin, your organs, your whole body structure is alive with your presence. You, Bahauddin, are present in every extremity, in the throb of your heart, your brain, the chest wall. You continuously flood through each section. Those parts do not see you, yet you are as surely in those as I inhabit every component part of the world, the changes in temperature, every invigoration you feel, the slightest delight. Each comes directly from this presence.
I want to always be aware of it- Your presence; in every emotion I feel, every thought passing through me.
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But on other, wiser moments, all it takes is a whispered 'I trust in You' and the worries fade. My view clears. It is almost like, dare I say, God grants me a tiny percentage of His vision. The peephole I view the world through widens, just a weeny bit, and I see the universe in its enormity, the insignificance of all of our problems at work and home, the incredible abundance of talk, talk, empty talk. And I leave it to God. It always works out. In a way so beautiful and intricately-woven that caters to everyone that only the All-encompassing, Perfect One could have been behind it. I want to always be aware of it- Your serenity.
Oh God. Don't leave me in the hands of my own unreliable self. I am Yours. Don't give my self back to me.
_________________________________________________________________________________
God's existence is the most audible. I hear it from my bedroom window at the break of each dawn: here is another day brought to us- every piece and element that makes part of it sings His praises. I hear it in my cousin's four-year-old's laughs and clever questions, in my mother's concerned expressions. I heard it that day, loud and clear, in the way we huddled up in the cosy coffee-shop, energized and united by a single passion. Notice the glint in the eyes of a person doing great at what they love to do and you will know that at some point, everyone is a believer.
Rumi's father had an interesting conversation with Him. I read it in The Drowned Book and folded down the page's corner, just because I felt I had to give that particular beautiful excerpt some special attention. Bahauddin prayed that his search for God be made more energetic. The answer came: Your bones and skin, your organs, your whole body structure is alive with your presence. You, Bahauddin, are present in every extremity, in the throb of your heart, your brain, the chest wall. You continuously flood through each section. Those parts do not see you, yet you are as surely in those as I inhabit every component part of the world, the changes in temperature, every invigoration you feel, the slightest delight. Each comes directly from this presence.
I want to always be aware of it- Your presence; in every emotion I feel, every thought passing through me.
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