Blinded by the Glare from Heaven’s Doorknobs 5 June 2006Posted by MOZAFFAR in MOZAFFAR, Spirituality.
I don't know what it is. I know I'll be fast asleep in a few hours, but I'm just wide awake right now. My whole body is exhausted, yet I can't sleep.
So, I think.
I like to think. I like closing my eyes and letting my mind wander.
This time, I'm thinking about my death — something I haven't seriously thought about in a while.
I suppose it's easier for me to conceive that I may die at age 39 than it is to conceive that I may die tomorrow. Don't misunderstand my point, I can think about the fact that I may die before completing this blog. That's not the issue.
The issue is the wrestling match we make when we place our mortality up against our worldly dreams. That wrestling match, where I think to myself that "I don't want to die yet because I haven't done _______" reveals to me how I attached I may be to this fleeting world.
In my case, if I go with the attitude that I'm dying tomorrow, it's an escape from responsibility. Meaning, hey, I'll be dead so I don't have to worry about tightening any loose ends. But, that is the nature of death it will hit you any time; as an approach, however, it's just not conducive to preparations for death to think of death as happening in a few moments. Or, I'm just not spiritually mature enough, yet.
So, here goes:
If I'm dying at age 39, that means I have only 5 or 6 Ramadans left. And, that assumes that I'm healthy (and am dying from something like a car accident, and not disease). It means that I can experience the first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah only 5 or 6 more times. It means that I have some 300 jum'as (Friday Prayers) left. Maybe some 1500 salahs (daily 5 prayers) left. Maybe I should focuse on the smaller numbers.
I think about my funeral, but it's too easy to get caught up in crying over myself along with those imaginary people, so that's a waste of a discussion.
I think about my family, not having a father or husband or son or brother around. But, even then, I think I've been much of an absentee ballot for a long time anyway. I don't expect to get any husband-of-the-year or father-of-the-year medals pinned on my chest anytime soon. School. Islamic Activism. Choosing just one of the two is enough to test your family's patience. I chose both. My family is too patient.
As a guy, I suppose I have that innate need to provide for my family. Social conditioning only amplifies that need. But, I'm not anywhere close to doing it. In my years of marriage, I don't think I've ever done it.
What do I do with my dreams? Are they distracting me too much? Have they given me anything in the past 5 or 6 years? Will they give me anything in the next 5 or 6 years?
Am I ready to tell God that I tried my best? I don't think so. That's all it comes down to, isn't it? You can have all the idealistic philosophies about life, but will you be ready to tell your Creator what you did with your time?
More importantly: when I wake up tomorrow, will I be any different. Or, are these thoughts just idle thoughts? Perhaps. Maybe. Possibly.
They're enough to keep me wide awake.