Nebulae

I am in awe of my Creators’ creations. Pictures taken by the Hubble Telescope: nebulae, glorious, majestic, terrifying, and whose sizes are far too much for the human mind to wrap itself around. It is all so very dizzying: the moon in orbit around this gorgeous planet of ours, where life can spring into fruition with the aid of a bit of sunlight and water. Galactic purples, universal darknesses, sunflower-y yellows. Swathes of water, oceans of blood. From nothingness, two cells are brought forth from male and from female. Dualities and contrasts, jigsaw pieces. Earth encircles sun – and we call this a year. A few days later, a heart begins to beat. 60 to 100 beats per minute, perfectly accommodated by womb, electricity sent rushing through muscles, arms flexed. Reflex actions, laughter. And what on earth is Time? What’s in a number?

Everything that exists is perceived by us, via these magnificent minds of ours. They represent reality, for us, in terms of language and visuals. But what about all that is simply beyond us? What do we know that we are simply unable to know, from our rather human points of view?

Dark matter, somatic cells, fireflies. The way the leaves sprout green, grow, become mustard, auburn, crimson. Words are a thing of wonder and beauty too: products of these, our minds. It is so very dizzying, bewildering, all of it. The human eye, perception, thought. The ability to remind your best friend that you love her; memory faculties that facilitate the storage of certain scents and sounds, somewhere up in that brain of yours [but where?]. Feeling the flickers of fire upon your palm; they certainly inspire something deep within you. Incandescence – what a beautiful word. Pardon me for sounding like a Romantic, here, but look at it, all of it. Look at you, all of you, in the mirror: symmetry, organs functioning in such harmony. Eyelashes that are of one length, the hairs upon your head that are of another. A child learning to pronounce her own name, the development of baby babbles into eloquence. A mushroom rising somewhere deep within damp woodland, the majesty of a blue whale beneath a rocking wooden boat. The names we are given, and the vocal propensities we have to utter them, which follow us through all of it: through microscope lenses, as we peer into the happenings of bacteria; through pen ink spilling over journal paper. Telescopes gazing upwards, inspiring awe. Forehead down on prayer mat, in humility, awe, and submission, to Al-Khaliq (the Creator), Al-Baari’, the Unmoved Mover. The master, the owner, the maker of everything. See, nothing moves without first being moved; things are not this harmonious, functional, as a result of ‘nothing’, nor as a result of ‘chance’. Undoubtedly, all praise and thanks are to Him, Lord of the Worlds.


Sadia Ahmed, 2020 

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