My eyelids flutter open and closed until I finally decide to open them completely to begin my day. I do my, as of late, ritualistic swallow to make sure my throat feels clear. I let out a forced cough to examine how it sounds. I feel my forehead too. All clear. I look outside my window and recite my daily prayer and conclude it with “Alhumdulilah,” all praise belongs to God. I am feeling content. I am healthy, I am alive, nothing is hurting me. What more could I ask for?
I was always one that undermined the effects of meditation, but I found myself resorting to my Fitbit app to watch some guided videos all too often lately.
“Take a deep breath in through your nose, fill your lungs to their capacity, and hold that breath in,” the male instructor says with his deep, yet calming voice. “When you feel the urge to exhale, do so out your nose completely until your diaphragm lies flat and all air has been expelled.”
After 10-15 minutes of deep breathing and muscle relaxation, I feel numb. And in the best way imaginable. I’d really like to stay in this moment for a minute or two longer, but I better get ready for my Public Health discussion on BlueJeans. I go to my bathroom and do my morning routine. I smile at my reflection as I lather my “Breath of Fresh Air” toner by LUSH over my face with my frozen jade roller. I glide it over my cheekbones and outline my jaw with it, giving my little facial bones a workout. They could use some TLC too.
I sit on my bed, and flip open my laptop. I absolutely hate sitting on my desk chair because it carries all the horrendous memories of high school homework and all those all-nighters I would pull doing the most useless assignments. It was all busy work and nothing more. My GSI pops up on the screen and waves at us and gives a seemingly forced smile. Her smiles were a lot more genuine and effortless in class. I hope she’s okay. I scan the faces of my classmates out of curiosity. Each of them look like they’d rather be anywhere else than in this virtual discussion. Midway through the discussion section, I completely zone it. My mind starts to think about my cousin and aunt right around the block who had tested positive.
“I really miss my mommy. She said 14 days, but it’s been two more than that. She lied to me. Plus, Baji (sister) Sanna, can you pleeaase come over and play with us?! We are at grandma’s house, only six and a half minutes away from you,” Alaina, my cousin’s little daughter, had said on the phone to me the day prior.
I fight my way through the discussion, trying to consume the information in my brain through what seemed like tiny little pores. I feel disappointed that my education doesn’t feel like a top priority for once. I am not used to this feeling at all, but I simply can not get myself to care about classes for now. Can this please please be over? My phone lights up and a CNN headline reads, “Today’s Numbers…” I prefer to always stay up-to-date with the news, but I feel I have had enough. I can not help but feel guilty for being healthy every time I read those. I turn off my phone just as my dad calls out “Allah hu Akbar”, God is the Greatest, from downstairs. It is time for prayer and he is reciting the call to prayer. I quickly go to the bathroom to perform ablution and I hear my brother doing the same. We convene in the living room to start prayer.
My family and I never did Jamaat, or gathered praying. My dad had decided that since we were all home, we would be praying all five of the prayers together in the living room. My brothers take their place behind my dad, who is leading the prayer, as my mom and I take the row furthest back. We begin prayer. When I bow down with my forehead pressed to the earth, I stay there for a moment letting the blood rush to my head. It feels like an immediate cure to something that I could not completely identify. During these prayers, I feel not only connected to God, but my dad. My dad is not an affectionate human by any stretch of the imagination, but I have gotten to see an unknown side of him this past couple weeks. We finish the prayer and put our hands together as my dad makes individual Du’as, or supplications. Mid-way through, his voice starts to crack. O.M.G. No way. My brother turns around and looks at me. I could not help but get so happy. I was witnessing a severe rarity. The words that were coming out of my dad’s mouth were so pure. So genuine. He really, really wishes well for everyone. Of all religions and all races. He makes a prayer that my brothers and I continue to follow our religion long after our parents are gone. I could not help, but shed a tear myself. I could have never witnessed such a meaningful moment if it hadn’t been for the present times. If there is one thing I have realized in life, it is that there is good and bad in everything. Nothing is perfect. And nothing is horrific. Elements of good and bad are woven into just about every situation. It is upon us to savor the good, and learn, survive, and/or move on from the bad. After all, it is all we can do when we are so powerless. The orders of this world are not in our hands. They are in Gods.
Sanna Ghafoor || Southeast Michigan (Sterling Heights) || Early to mid April, 2020