Ramadan Reflections: The Ummah, Like Clockwork
I rely on the serene simplicity of spirituality In the Name of Allah, Most Gracious, Most Merciful. The beautiful diversity of Muslims seen at the mosque, women adorned in silky fabrics of a spectrum of colours, bright laughter matched with the light of their smiles: religion at its finest. We are one soul, one Ummah, fasting together for Rida, the peaceful tranquility to the will of Allah.[quote]We sink our teeth into the date at the same time, a unity in breaking our Sawm, a gesture so simple but speaks so many words.[/quote]
We are all one body, composed of organs and cells and veins and heart that beats strongly against all. I love being embraced and kissed by beautiful old women, their stories imprinted into the wrinkles of their skin and the faint pulsing of their hearts. Children running around and playing among one another, little girls enhanced in their little scarves, little boys adorning their little caps while their mothers look at them with shining eyes with gratefulness to God: their children were born into such a precious religion. They scold their children flippantly, and usher them into a small circle—our future Ummah—telling them stories of our beloved prophets. Their voice is one, enchanting and hypnotizing, their words wrapped around their gestures, their whispers and pitches of phrases. The children do not hear their words, theysmell their words, and even we become intoxicated. They are storytellers, and their stories are real.
we are trees, heels rooted deep into our prayer rugs as if we had been born there, our branches intertwined with one another
I love the Imam’s beautiful voice, and every time he breathes in is every time we breathe out, with only Allah supplying us with the vitality to sustain ourselves. As he recites those words from Allah to Allah, he strings words together into a chain of pearls, while the believers stand behind him: we are trees, heels rooted deep into our prayer rugs as if we had been born there, our branches intertwined with one another, one soul breathing into and out of itself. And despite the Imam leading our prayers, it is as if we are FACE-TO-FACE with Allah, His Magnificence, His Omnipotence, and when I press my forehead to the ground, there is no other state I would rather be in.
The whispers that succumb the room as we read the Shahadah, testifying our belief, a simple phrase which carries out the entire religion, and a truth which cannot be denied. Outside after prayers, fathers are talking among each other, sons of Adam and brothers of the same faith, their hearty laughter illuminating the night. I watch as they clap their hands onto each other’s back, old friends and cherished gestures, and I cannot help but wonder how blessed I am for the ability of sight, as so I can witness this. My sandals constrict me from pressing my feet into the lush dewy grass as we walk under the constellations and the moon—Blessed is He Who made constellations in the skies, and placed therein a Lamp and a Moon giving light; and it is He Who made the Night and the Day to follow each other: for such as have the will to celebrate His praises or to show their gratitude—warm air brushing against our skin, cool air caressing our eyelids, the night tangling itself into us after the Taraweeh prayers.[quote]We are so blessed to be one beautiful, intricate, perfect clockwork soul, infinite in our capacity and timeless in our ways.[/quote]