Comfort breeds contempt for the blessings that constitute one's existence, and is therefore extremely dangerous for the one who seeks proximity to The One. She who is not frequently reminded of how unconditionally dependent she is upon the Divine Mercy permits the seed of self-reliance to germinate, which, like an uncontainable vine, soon strangles the life out of her heart, leaving it cold, hard, and conceited. Woe the wayfarer who is not frequently exposed to her own limitations, for she has not had the chance to pick up the pieces of a life in tatters with newly gentle hands. Neither has she perceived the lives of others through the eyes of true mercy, for it is only the rarest human who can demonstrate compassion for something she has not personally tasted. More often than not, distress is the access point for Reality. It is only catastrophe that has the capacity to deconstruct the carefully weaved web of miscalculations we wrap our existence in, like a clement wrecking ball that destroys an already condemned and therefore hazardous structure, making space for a more sturdy construction. There is a moment in which control is entirely taken away from you, and sweat beads form on the forehead, the stomach violently churns, tears well up in the eyes, and for the first time, every comfort-blanket of protection has demonstrated itself to be false and of no use. The mind wanders for hours on end desperate to find a solution that simply does not exist, for the moment was not designed to be solved. It was designed to stimulate an internal shut down, an exasperated acknowledgement that there is no Helper but Him, and that you are unable to save yourself. And in that moment the door to Reality swings open, and the fear that previously incapacitated subsides in favour of compelling trust, a sense of stillness caused by recognition of His Design. If He loves you, He will dismantle you on numerous occasions, so that you are forced to dig deep into your own being to find the jewels that dwell within. If you are insignificant in the Divine Court, everything will go the way you want it to. Those who know Him cherish the struggle, for in the eyes of the world, they are insane. This path is the inversion of contemporary norms.
In contrast to the long summer days that have defined Ramadan in the West for the last few years, my first experience of the blessed month was ( mercifully ) during the British winter, with the sunset prayer no later than 16:30. As a second year university student, I was still familiarising myself with both Islam and living away from my parents, and so my Ramadan diet combined biriyani iftars in the local mosque with occasional late night trips to the nearest fried chicken shop to curtail midnight hunger pains. A Muslim friend, Barbar, would knock on my dormitory door thirty minutes before the dawn prayer, and insist I share the food he had readied ( usually a reheated Pakistani dish prepared by his mother, accompanied by a few slices of bread ) . Another friend, Ali, perhaps inspired by my conversion, utilised the learning process I was undertaking as a chance to gain more knowledge about his faith, and would frequently come to pick me up from my dormitory in ord
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