Friend,

An icy glass of water, held in hand. Decorated with water droplets. Both comfort and necessity. Friends are the ones who love you, in truth. And you love them too, and you love them in truth. [If you do not love a person in truth; if you are ‘friends’ with them as a result of shallow, or merely-circumstantial considerations, I do not think this counts as a friendship. But maybe the term ‘acquaintance’ sounds a little too harsh and devoid of any emotional attachment…]

            Truth: the truth is that we are in need and in want of nourishing, authentic friendships. As, and between, complete and complex, wonderful (and in certain parts, a little-at-times difficult) human beings.

And if a friend can be defined as someone who loves you in truth, then how wonderful a thing it is that sometimes people are friends with their siblings; with their parents; with their grandparents, or with their cousins. The best, most desirable, human relationships are necessarily centred upon friendship; for we Muslims, the best relationships are rooted in love, in truth, and towards and bound by Truth. Direction, and connection. How beautiful a thing is it, when some family members, we choose to take as friends, while some friends, over time and as a result of due presence, become family?

Some friends are here practically all the time, even when they are far away. Daily conversations – while others, one may only see or hear from once or twice a year. Cousins and siblings, though: these are the friends who cannot ever run away from you [Mwahahah].

Truly, I think the strongest bonds come about as a result of spending the later hours together, especially. When the defences come down; secrets are shared, ideas, laughter, food, downright idiocy. Those parts of one another that very few others will likely ever come to know. When it feels like the rest of the entire world is asleep, sapped of its energy, sort of far away. All that you have – what you are blessed enough to have – are a physical space, enclosed and, in that, quite freeing. Eyes that look like coming home. Food, and a night sky. No near-strangers to attempt to impress; nobody to only pretend that you are, or might be; nothing to prove, or disprove. Just real presence, (once again, downright idiocy,) and goodness. Nothing but everything.

            The things that make up my everything, I think, are: Islam, my friendships (which certainly include certain family members), my relationships with other human beings, my relationship with myself, and myself in relation to the [natural] world. What is mine, in this present universe; I, in continued conversation with each part, all of it. Spinning Earth, and my own world. And also, no: there is no ‘I’ without ‘we’. Not at all.

And there are, have always been, and will (Insha Allah) be moments of such unbridled joy. There will be witty exchanges, sarcasm, stepping on one another’s feet, sometimes. There will be spillages, misunderstandings, a few moments of tension, clashes. Stupid inside jokes; understandings, both of the spoken, and the more silent, sort. A national lockdown, or two. Or three. Things to get through, as friends, together.

            We do each have our own lives. Obligations. Streams and streams of things to do. And I do not ever want to forget what is truly important. The bulk of what I do must be intentional. As much as possible, directed towards those very things that matter. As much as possible, organically connected. Water good things; know that they will not grow in straight lines, ‘perfectly’. And there is too much beauty in precisely these facts of present ruggedness. We are not alone, and we are not ultimately in control. And things may be right, and then go a little wrong. And wrongs can be worked on; put right. This life would be quite pointless indeed, without all of its wildflowers.

            I love how many examples, similitudes, one can find upon the Earth that Allah has created for us. Sometimes, as a result of distance, perhaps, some friendships, for example, can feel a little frayed. But, in the end, things become okay. Things can be revived; can regrow. With the things that matter, there will be wounds and obstacles and difficulty. Little fall-outs, perhaps, among other things. But wherever the wound occurs: these tend to be the places from which new sprouts emerge. From the same space, and yet, more alive, almost. Stronger. Adaptable, and adapted. To varying circumstances, places, added considerations, and times.

Some friends have been there, in chronological terms, from the very start. And they are still here, Alhamdulillah. Some come along a little later, but this fact does not, in any way, detract from the value of their present presence. Some friends, one can be apart from for an entire year, and yet, when you see one another, it feels like an effortless continuation. A comfort of being, and of blooming. And some good friends: [how strange a thought,] we do not, at present, know. Elements of Allah’s plan for us, whom we are yet to meet.


With Salaam, Sadia, 2021

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