Zikr — Commemoration of God
In the name of God, most Gracious, most Merciful
I sit with my back straight and begin by remembering that God, Allah in Arabic, pervades the universe and so He is with me now, listening and watching, protecting, and providing even my breath. Indeed, my breath derives from His own breath, which He breathed into humanity’s father Adam. So, in a sense, God breathes me.
Beginning with the Arabic words for “I seek refuge in God from Satan, the rejected.” I then recite the short Arabic sura, or chapter, that opens the Quran, known as Al-Fãtehah or the Key in English (Quran 1:1–7). Here is the English translation:
In the name of God, Most Gracious, Most Merciful.
Praise be to God, Lord of the universe.
Most Gracious, Most Merciful.
Master of the Day of Judgment.
You alone we worship; You alone we ask for help.
Guide us in the right path;
the path of those whom You blessed; not of those who have deserved wrath, nor of the strayers. (Quran 1:1–7)
Settling myself more comfortably I then begin chanting or singing “Laa Elaaha Ellaa Allah” or “There is no god except God”. Slowly my body begins to sway gently as the phrase fills me with its calm and peace. My eyes close and I feel almost as if I am floating outside in the rising dawn though everything still looks dark. Suddenly a bright light glows in the center of the darkness. It grows a little larger and then I feel almost as if I am spinning among the stars, getting closer and closer to God. I open my eyes just a crack and realize that the clouds outside are turning a gorgeous pink against the still partially darkened sky.
I close my eyes again and begin calling out to God with a yearning that I can scarcely put into words. Again, my body sways to the “Allah, Allah, Allah.…” I sing softly enough that it will not wake my husband in the next room of our little two room cabin. Though my voice is soft, my heart is shouting my love and longing for its Creator. It reaches out into the dawn and beyond with such fervor that I must fall prostrate onto the old woolen carpet that covers the floor of our main living area. Soon I am sobbing, not from discomfort but from love and exaltation of the One who created me, sustains me, protects me, provides for me, and InshAllah (God willing) will forgive me on the Day of Resurrection.
As the sobbing subsides, a peace steals over me and raising my head I see that the sun is coming up. Another day has begun. May God make it a good one for us all, InshAllah.
