This image is of one of the corners of the Taj Mahal. I was not very keen on it as we visited while the Indian summer blazed. The marble floors, often described as cool and white, burned like embers and I felt pain in my soles while walking around in the sunshine. The only saving grace of that day came when we hit this corner and a sudden shade formed. As I looked up, I saw this and immediately praised Allah–for comfort and silver linings.
Contemplating the end of Ramadan by going through photos of some places I’ve visited this year. Sometimes I forget just how much ground I cover. Traveling is a always a dream come true and a revelation but often, after having gone through the journey, I succumb to forgetfulness and routine. I save my photos, document my thoughts and let everything sit allowing life to take its course and before I know it, I’m packing again for another trip.
What does all of this have to do with breaking fast? Well, I haven’t been out of the country in months and I haven’t been in an office in a week. Isn’t that a form of fasting? I feel certain withdrawal symptoms that manifest as insecurity. Do I have enough money for groceries, for transport, for bills, for friends, for life in general? Am I wasting away my life in pursuit of something I haven’t yet fully discovered? These are the kinds of deep morning questions I ask before making coffee that I can actually drink in my pj’s–unlike before. I look out at a patch of earth I have yet to plant stuff on and I’m excited more than I fear for a future I haven’t seen. Recent weekend trips and nights spent in friend’s homes have also kept me curious and hungry to learn more.
So what about Ramadan? Maybe I’m just grateful–happy to be alive, here and now. Grateful too for words and their power to kindle passion in each of us.