I feel drained; my breathing grows shallower and louder as I
sink into a troubling world of consciousness; though I confidently believe in
my right to sin and, in turn, learn and grow insightful, I fail to spare myself
the chastisement I bestow upon my limp soul. I know that our decisions shape
our lives; ranging from decisions as simple as hopping off a comfortable couch
to help your baby sister/brother get the highly shelved teddy bear to
undertaking the trouble of waking up in the middle of an almost lustful sleep
to pray el-Fajr and take your transparency and serenity to a whole new level. I
know how wrong I’ve been and still am. I am surprisingly mindful of my flaws.
And what differentiates between a fighter and the deficient in strength is the
ability to build sound decisions upon moments of honesty and consciousness. So, I guess I am yet to be dubbed as a
fighter, only as an excessively conscious human being for the moment.
I sat across people scarred with wrinkles and furrows. And, surprisingly, they do not seem to be the result of aging, but the result of worn up spirits; spirits that have wallowed far too excessively in pools of cravings and misleading impulses. Deep inside of me, they scare me and I pray with all my incomplete strength to never make decisions that can shove me onto an unrecognized path of darkness and unfortunate ends. I pray to lead a sound life; to not be a troubling representation of Islam or life in general. I pray to not lose the gift of listening, to not pace blinded and biased to my thoughts and perceptions. I pray to be the quietest when loudness hurt, the most cheerful when scowls become the leading free-of-charge facial expression, the kindest and least selfish when darkness sponsors life. I pray to be better, to be more of the heart-warming and less of the heart-breaking.
Our ability as humans to be friends with denial staggers me. Problems infest our lives and we hover around them like a bird frightened to come face-to-face with a potential enemy. We leave our muddy trails on the paths we tread upon; rarely do we care to turn back and clean our pasts by a tactful decision taken within the present. So, it remains true that our decisions shape us.
I've received 52 wake up calls during times of rest, and I have not been able to summon the courage for responding so far. 52 wake up calls to pray el-Fajr by a valuable person. 52 missed calls observed in the afternoon instead of the early morning. 52 lip bites and inner scolding; 52 failures to respond. I speak of logic eloquently and then sanction myself to flirt with irrationality. It disgusts me how I usually satisfy my need for being logical solely by the act of speaking which comes at no heavy price. When my defenses are down and my denial is sound asleep, I find myself starring at a distorted reflection, mainly worn out by an overly exploited definition of vulnerability. For many, including myself, being human becomes the green light to acting like a mindless animal as it is believed that our weaknesses are far too deep and ancient to be fought. And that is why I stumble upon faces that are pale and frayed, depleted by the long visits that have been paid to darkness.
Each day, I am faced with an array of choices, and the badest are usually the most lustrous and tempting. In an era of youth and eloquency in speech, capturing the young hearts seem easy. Yet, the memory of my sister haunts me; the memory of my mother and how I wish for those whom I love to remain spared from the mischief a guy can inflect upon a girl never leaves me. I swallow hard at the possibility of having Allah paying me back in the ugliest ways. And Allah knows how do I strenueously try to make good and promising decisions. Though people call me a perfectionist, I fail to understand whether it is a blessing or a curse. I've deeply wounded before and I have been praying ever since for forgiveness. I've made very bad decisiosns throughout my life, and I have their side effects running deep under my skin where the pain is implicit and invisible to others.
The power of our decisions lies within what inspires them; wether they're inspired by wisdom and sobriety or cravings and whims. By observing the pattern of decisions taken by one individual, you can predict what the future holds for him/her. And it is because that Allah rewards those who treat life with intelligence. I wish to choose my life partner according to measures of modesty, internal beauty, kindness, morality, and sobriety and not according to measures that have its roots dug deep in lust, cravings and impulses. I wish to never regret taking decisions that have the marvelous ability to cast havoc upon the future. I wish to value the presence of the ones who matter and never pursue valueless creatures in response to the demands of my lust.
Every decision counts; another coin tossed into a deep fountain. Beware for it is rust that you harvest when rust is what you deposit. What goes around comes around. Never disregard the hurt that your recklessness can inject into the hearts of people to not have them later disregard the hurt that they recklessly injected into you. Pray for pureness. Attempt with all your might to help your prayers go beyond moves that are subconsciously regonized to grow to be a better human being who has the conscious ability of making fruitful and rewarding decisions. ------------------------------------------- ιиѕριяє∂ ву: Heavy thinking and analysis of my life and my decision
