Conscience is a Muscle
Do not let your conscience waste away,
For like your organs and muscles,
It needs constant exercise.
Smoke Free. Yesterday I visited the doctor (I have a phlegmatic cough and flu), and she asked me, “Do you smoke?” And for the first time in 2 decades, I replied in the negative. It felt real good being able to say that, coming into my 4th month smoke free.
Ambling. As part of my new health regiment, I am also doing a lot of ambling. It is like walking, but with little sense of purpose, almost uncaring where the journey will end. Dog-walkers and my elderly neighbours regularly overtake this ambler with ease. Initially, I was a little disturbed, but really, as I looked at their receding backs, who cares? Godspeed to them, I say. He he he.
Thank God for Pain. As a result of my diabetes, I have been feeling numb at my feet for years. So I am also taking some medication to reconstitute my nerve endings. It’s funny isn’t it? People normally run away from pain. But here I am, trying to feel pain again. So now as I lie in bed trying to sleep, pain does come. I can feel it coursing through the blood vessel of my feet, popping and trembling, as if being massaged by some unseen hands. So thank God for pain!
Threadmill. Which leads me (in my normal runabout way) back to my conscience. Because, like my physical body, I am afraid I have failed to diligently exercise my conscience, that spiritual compass that God has implanted in the core of all of us. So you may see me ambling in my neighbourhood, but morally speaking I am on a treadmill of my conscience, and I fear I am losing my breath, losing my mind, staggering like a drunkard at the cusp of collapsing. Pray for me.
Mad Assurance. I cannot tell you how strange it feels not to smoke. Not to have a roll of burning leaf in my hand. For almost 20 years I have been cultivating a habit which to its last day earlier this year, meant that I puffed almost 4 boxes daily. Really, the only time I didn’t smoke was when I was asleep. I guess I was mad, but that madness filed my waking hours and like it or not, I found the nicotine sticks reassuring. Now that they are gone, what am I?…
What am I now without my chemical crutches?
Am I spiritual? Or do I cling to some vain piety
That mortal men often clutches?
Nothing? I read once that you are what you habitually hold in your hand. So when I was smoking, I used to think I was, literally, a cigarette. But now, what am I holding? Nothing? No, not nothing unfortunately… For in my hand, though you may not see it, I hold a short temper, desire, jealousy, envy, bitterness and grudges. Alas, I am not Rumi. Far from it, I guess. But I do get to spend more time with my son, just walking and taking in our neighbourhood. One day at a time, one step at a time. Alhamdulillah
wa min Allah at-taufiq
Hate has no place in Islam
Love will show the Way