The God Connection

Do we generally feel a Godly connection? Is it something that we harness on a daily basis? Can we achieve a mental, or rather a metaphysical transformation to be connected to a higher entity? Do we have to be prophets or elected by God to earn such position?

Questions, questions, questions. People might think that topics such as God’s existence, His methods, His choices of articulating the universe should undoubtedly be dissuaded once they arise. Those topics, some might argue, would eventually lead the inquisitor to the land of confusion and alienation, which will then cause the end of his faith.

There is an Irish saying that goes like: “If you aren’t confused, you don’t know what is going on. “

This saying should not be taken at face value. It has a certain moral behind it. It does not mean that you have to be confused in order to collect knowledge about something. It means that you have to be in a process of constant and rigorous questioning in order to hold a firm grasp on the wider aspects of a certain topic or issue. Naturally, with the complexity of the topic grows the confusion, and vice versa. So practically speaking, the God issue, it being an overly complicated and sophisticated one, will ultimately result in a confusing and, one might add, a disorientating debate.

The God connection that I am talking about is not derived from the practices of religions (Judaism, Christianity or Islam) that occur on a daily basis. The connection that I am speaking about is literal. To simply touch the hand of God. I might be insane to try and tackle such crazy topic, but I will try my best.

Let me dishearten your eager minds to say unto you that you cannot, in fact, touch the hand of God. Then why did I say it? To me, to touch the hand of God is to simply acknowledge the fact that your life, your existence, your conception is practically in his hands.

We were subjugated since our birth to think that religion is salvation. We were driven to think that we are Jews or Christians or Muslims by birth, not by practice. We were not given the option to think and contemplate about our choices, but simply be de facto Jews, Christians or Muslims. We simply inherited religion from our ancestors as if it was a written will.

But what if this “will” ceases to exist? What if our ancestors stopped the flow of religion? Would humanity be faithless? What would happen one day if you raise your kids haphazardly without any basis to raise them upon except logic, common sense or basic human knowledge, which are not sufficient in the first place?

As a Muslim, let me take an example from my own religion to better illustrate my argument. Till now, it is widely acknowledged that the technological advance the West is currently living in is mostly owed to the efforts of Muslim scholars who lived in what was called “The Era of Islamic Enlightenment.” Medical, social, political, technological and scientific breakthroughs that are still talked about to this very day. But let’s regress. Let’s not live in the wisdoms and triumphs of the past. Let’s get back to the present tense.

Islam nowadays is viewed as a religion of terror and violence. A religion of backwardness and uncivility. But do not blame religion, I beg you. Blame whoever dropped his balls and courage (Excuse my foul language) and decided to raise the white flag. Blame whoever decided to stop thinking and building over the schools of thought that were accumulated over the ages of Islamic victory. Blame whoever stopped thinking and relied on their “ancestors’ will” and was apathetic and indecisive. Blame whoever lost this Godly connection.

The God connection is a state of spiritual practice that is aimed at questioning, not your God, but your faith. A state in which you know how it will end, but within this process, will know its means. We the believers know that God exists and we obey His rules and words of guidance. But then, where is our human side? How can you recognize yourself as a true believer if you take what has been told to you at face value without arguing? Without asking questions? Without seeking answers that are supposedly, and in some countries, lawfully out of your reach? In the Torah, the Bible and the Quran, God aggressively commands us to think. Think. Not be led like sheep. Otherwise, he would be a dictator. And that is not the case. Far from it.

To touch the hand of God is, then, a matter of constant contemplation, in which all the equations, thought processes and mental and physical practices lead to one result. Some might argue that God truly is evil and omnipotent as He is holding us like puppets and swaying us wherever He wants and pleases as long as He is obeyed and prayed for. There is a flipside to that narrow-minded coin. Let me demonstrate it by presenting a simple mathematical equation.

1+9=10

2+8=10

3+7=10

What we understand is that it is true that God is the definite end result. But we all do it in our own ways and methods. We can be from different religions and still acknowledge God’s existence. We can be of different colours of backgrounds and still define God as the ultimate higher entity. I can be of no religion and yet at some point arrive at a conclusion that there is indeed a god. The saying that goes “Seeing is believing” cannot be applied to God. You cannot just rely upon logic or materialisation in order for you to know that God is there. You have to use emotional belief and not attribute everything to its logical genesis. People sometimes lack that leap of faith, which they understandably do. Yet they do not try to enhance it and simply take it for granted as non-existent compared to their rather shallow and obtuse angle of looking at things.

In my solitude when I am all alone, I sometimes write thoughts and doodles in my personal notebook. Things that will never see the light except that of the lamp that I turn on whenever I feel down or gloomy. I write and write till my palms grow sore and my heart pleas. I write sometimes till the morning beaming sunlight when I finally go to sleep, feeling care-free, rested, and spiritually released.

If you, the reader, understand and fully grasp the concept behind the previous paragraph, then you can begin to understand the God connection. What it truly feels to touch the hand of God.

The Magic of Books

I remember the day quite vividly when I first entered a proper bookstore. I was around 14 or 15 years old when I was at my Grandma’s in Heliopolis. Before she passed away just a couple of weeks ago, we used to have regular get-togethers at her house where we had lunch with my uncle and his family. Those were simpler times. Good times.

I had just finished eating lunch and there I was sitting next to my mother and sister. My father and my uncle would go have their usual after lunch cigarette along with a good dose of black coffee. My grandmother would enter the kitchen and start scrubbing away effortlessly at the dishes and spoons. We the kids would endlessly wait until all the grownups have went out to the living room so we can play hide and seek. It was a big apartment yet filled and stacked with chairs, chinaware and other stuff. Needless to say, there were a lot of hiding spots. But I was tall enough to be spotted from a mile away. Till the moment I published this blog, I kept thanking God that I did not go play hide and seek with my nephew and nieces that day.

My uncle’s wife kept on going about this new bookstore that had just opened around the corner of grandma’s street. She was talking to my mother about how she and her daughters entered it and how they were fascinated by it and how the design helps customers to be further attracted to buying books. She had also mentioned that there is a huge collection of books where all tastes could be met. Whether you like fiction or politics, science or classic literature, you will find your preference there. On my face there was nothing to be said. I was just focused on what she was saying as if I was bedazzled. If anybody could see me at face value, they would not know that I was interested in any of what was being said. I kept a good poker face. But in mind, there were roller coasters roaring through the labyrinths of my mind. The sound of their engines was so loud in my head that I could not help maintain my poker face. I looked at my mother instantaneously after my uncle’s wife finished talking her sweet sweet talk. My mother looked back. She knew what was going on in my inquisitive head and she smiled, yet she was initially resistant. She kept saying “Some other time” and “We have to be home at a specific hour.” She failed in delivering her message. Miserably.

Next thing you know, we were on our way to the bookstore. Now you ask yourselves “What was the bookstore’s name?” To which I respond “Diwan Bookstore. “You might have your reservations regarding that particular bookstore but hear me out till the end.

If anybody of you went to their branch in Heliopolis, they would be fascinated by the place itself. The bookstore is a humongous villa that is located in the heart of the neighbourhood. We entered it and I was suddenly overcome by this beautiful scent. It was not organic. It was not artificial, i.e not Glade or deodorants or otherwise. It was the scent of thousands and thousands of books stacked atop the hundreds of shelves in the bookstore. If you did go to any bookstore in any place, you would definitely know the scent I am talking about.

Books I have never seen before in my life. Authors I would never fathom knowing. Titles that made my heart leap out of my chest. I could not believe that still after 6 or 7 years from that day, I would remember the books I bought from there which were “Robinson Crusoe “by Daniel Defoe and “Around the World in 80 Days” by Jules Verne, both of which might I add have not been fully read to this very moment.

To me, a bookstore is not where I go to buy books. A bookstore is where I find my muse. I go there if I am feeling down, and it sometimes happens a lot. I often go there to ponder and just look at the racks of books just sitting there waiting to be taken away from their families, waiting for me to just look at them. To reach my hand to touch them and hold them in my palms. I sometimes say to myself or my friends when we go to a bookstore “We are JUST going to take a look around.” Those nine words rarely take place the moment we enter the bookstore. To me, bookstores are therapeutic in so many different ways. They ease my mind when I am angry and lift me up when I am sad or happy.

Before anybody would hasten to assume that I am talking specifically about Diwan bookstores, this is not the case at all. There are other bookstores, street ones even that have clicked with me instantly. Diwan was just the beginning of a series of maniacal money-spending frenzy on books that I still had not read, and probably won’t in my lifetime. I kid you not when I say that I think of books as my inheritance to my children, that is if I had any.

Let me slightly deviate from the main aim of this blog to say that used books are, to me, a double-edged sword. On the plus side, they are cheap. I mean DIRT cheap. You can find old books and possibly rare ones. Nearly all bookstores have them on special racks. On the down side, they are possibly torn and misused. But most importantly I WOULD NEVER SELL MY BOOKS TO ANYONE. REPEAT, I WOULD NEVER SELL MY BOOKS TO ANYONE. Those who sell their books are not fully sane or thinking properly. But Alas, cheap books for me. Thank you O YE KIND PEOPLE WHO SELL THEIR BOOKS.

I am still young to achieve something big in my life. Up till now, I am proud to say that my biggest achievement is that I can read and I have enough money to pamper myself with loads of books. I thank God, my father, my mother and my uncle for instilling this insane affection towards this mesmerizing entity.

I had a lot of arguments with my sister, who is five years younger than me, about the power of books and reading in general. I failed the first time. I did so as well the second time. Third time. Fourth time. A couple of months ago, she opened her first book and started reading it. Granted, she still is reading it and she still has a long way to go to read other books. What I want to say is that, to start reading a book is daunting at first and sometimes even repulsive to some. But believe me, if you give yourselves the chance to buy a book in your area of interest, however minute or complex it is, however small or big, however cheap or expensive, I promise you, the best feeling you will have is when your fingers turn the page before the last one and you start reading the final words of that book. By the time you finish it, you would have earned a new lifetime friend. An honest one.

Now go grab a book and start reading it!