Work has been eating up the rest of my life like A Very Hungry Caterpillar, hence no posts here of late.
I often have ideas for posts fizzing in my head, but so rarely have the chance to sit down and write them.
Nafs. Mine are sadly sturdy and well-fed creatures, but lately, they’ve not just been running the show but wearing military uniform and having parades in their honour. As the summer light causes the prayer times to slide apart, opportunities for revolt abound.
Fajr is obedience. Not only awakening from the sweetest sleep, but getting up, splashing water then standing, bowing, sujood and sitting. I do this for me, but more then this, I do it for Him, to start the day with the right hand angel writing.
Tonight I came home wanting to eat and set my brain adrift from the comfort of the sofa, but it was time to pray. I made myself go and make wudu, then pray.
It was not the best prayer. My recitation was faster then it should be, concentration lacking, for I am a poor servant, easily distracted, eating bread at the circuses. Yet, by the end I am sitting feeling the honour of the prayer, the joy of the connection.
Al Halim, let my heart be Yours always