I appreciate what happens when well-intentioned leaders gather under the tent. As they gather in the majlis, whatever follows is not public. There are no rumours. Social media is absent. The important majlis of the year are gatherings of elders. Their discussions lead to an agreement on what is best for their communities and as a nation. Three symbols stand out. I see an individual always thinking in terms of community. There is a camel fearlessly facing the summer heat, winds, and scarce water. There is a bird of prey. Each is an integral symbol of a community that endures and thrives.
As the sun, winds, and humidity signal the coming summer, the symbols of community relentlessly building for the future are all around me. What is not so obvious is the degree of care, kindness, and respect that form the fabric of everything around me. The lessons they leave with me include the following.
Creating time and space for quietness, reflection, and discussion of what is to come, majlis, is an essential part of the day. Life continues to remind me that I need time with Divinity, then myself followed by my wife at the beginning of the day. There is no rule that this must happen. It is, for me, like drinking water. It refreshes my soul, restores my heart, and leads me to a place of peace and hope.
Opening one’s heart and mind to the reality of community comes with hope and fear. It is a place of vulnerability. Along with the hope that community brings, I know I will find uncertainty and fear. Divinity’s assurance can be difficult to embrace with certainty. “Isn’t it obvious that all angels are sent to help out with those lined up to receive salvation?” (Hebrews 1.14)
Trusting to live is the answer I keep coming back to. The call to the day is direct and to the point. I am called to trust in the prime priority of kindness and care. In trust, I am called to live completely, fully, and absolutely in this moment.
