The soaring call

As I sit here, in this land dotted with mosques, every few hours, I hear the muezzin call. It begins low at first and then like an ocean swell that rises from somewhere deep, it quickly gains momentum and rises, a wall of sound fuelled by devotion, embodied with worship, and driven by longing.

And then a pause, dramatic in its abruptness, as if the wave was stopping to rally its forces. And then the call rising again, meandering through the pathways of the heart, wiping them clear of vestiges of doubt, filling them with love. Sweeping me along, climbing higher and higher, like as if it wanted to bridge the gap between earth and heaven, to dissolve the veil that seperates the two.

The final crescendo, knocking on those golden gates where the Spirit dwells, and then they open, those diaphanous doors, transporting me for some glorious moments into the presence of everything luminous, awe-inspiring, blessed.

Leaving me deeply and joyously grateful.

MOONLESS, STARRY NIGHTS

Why moonless? you might ask. Because the moon is such an attention-grabber, hanging there in the sky shining resplendently. On full moon nights, the moon looks so captivating, like a milky pearl, drenching everything in its dreamy light, that we fail to notice anything else. But imagine a night when there is no moon and no clouds either, then you will see the night decked out in all its diamond jewellery, some twinkling mischievously, some soft and benign, all precious pinpricks of light in the inky sky. The sight of the stars opens up our vision like nothing else, for isn’t that the universe over there spread out above us,  stretching towards infinity. Makes me feel like an insignificant, miniscule speck among the mind-boggling, glorious vastness of it all, instantly taking me out of my self-centred self and completely wiping out my arrogance.

It even gives a different perspective to the concept of time and of Now. For even as the light from the stars reaches our eyes, it has left its source many light years ago, and we can never know if the star that emitted the light still exists or has died as we are gazing at it, or moved from the position we think it is at. Reminds us that things are not as they appear to be, and perspective is only that, not necessarily the truth.

But most of all I am grateful for the fact that when I stand under the canopy of the jewelled sky and bask in the soft starlight, I am filled with such awe-filled joy, that I forget that I am a limited human with a body and mind, almost completely lose the sense of ‘I’, and I am transformed by the sense of vastness and infinity which arises within me and that which I intuitively know to be my real nature.