Mobeen Hakeem

This isn't goodbye

You never really survive. When you fall and get back up again, you never really survive. Even when you make it out alive, you're not the same you anymore. You don't come back with the same heart, the same mind or the same eyes. The old you always dies, even when you survive.

It is true, what you hide in your heart is reflected in your eyes. But it is more than that. It lives in the air you exhale. In the light that touches your closed lips before it cascades into the fragments of existence. What you do not say becomes a brushstroke on the canvas of life. It settles in the earth, nourishing tomorrow’s crops. It moves through the rivers, washing over rocks that remember everything that has ever passed. And if the earth around you knows, it will surrender your secrets to a higher being, to the realm of souls. And so, what you hide in your heart can be felt by anyone whose soul is awake.

The art of not waiting, that is the secret. We are all just waiting for something. Waiting for something to start, or waiting for something to end, it's all just waiting. Waiting is not living. Waiting to live really isn't so different to waiting for death. Waiting teaches us to value that which will come to us, above valuing ourselves. The anxiety of waiting is your mind's panic after submitting to valuing what you wait for, above yourself. The era of waiting is over. Do not wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow waits for you. Do not wait for what is written for you, Allah has already commanded it. Know it deep in your heart and soul. Whatever is written for you, can do nothing but wait for you. So be content with what your Lord has written, and trust it will find you. And that is the art of not waiting.

In all the life I have lived, and it is surely more than billions were ever granted the time to live for, I have learned many things. But more importantly, I have unlearned many things, too. Indeed, we are quick to leave a place at times, but often, we are also too quick to stay. Too eager to unpack our bags and settle near the first river we find. Sometimes, a humble stream may be better than a river, just for a few days, while the wearing of the journey's travel is still heavy on our feet. Passing armies don't settle near streams, nor do great packs or herds. Only lone beasts of prey and men who were opportunists fallen astray. And so be it, if that's the case. A man needs a reason to sharpen his sword now and then anyway. Just for a few days.

A strong man needs wars to fight. It is in his blood. And if there are no wars against evil, he will make a war against poverty and failure. They will be his enemies. He will take up arms and march out alone into the abyss of success. He will return home wearing the ears of those who looked to hear his secrets. The hands of those who seeked to take what is his. The heads of those who plotted against him.